


only child of the universe

by steelandtemper



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Group Therapy, He's 18 she's 16, Heavy Angst, House Party, Lovers to Enemies to Lovers??, Maz as Rey and Finn's Adoptive Mom, Mental Health Issues, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rated E really just for chapter 4, Recreational Drug Use, Rey Needs A Hug, Teen Angst, Teen Ben Solo, Underage Drinking, otherwise M for themes!, teen Rey, the Knights of Ren are characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 98,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelandtemper/pseuds/steelandtemper
Summary: The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair. The second time is in therapy, where the asshole won't even acknowledge her.Modern AU / High school / Group therapy / Teen angst
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 223
Kudos: 349





	1. how could something so bad look so damn good?

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! heads up, I’ll eventually be handling themes of mental illness/trauma in this fic, but it’s not ultimately *about* that/isn’t a ‘dark fic.' but angsty, yes. very. if a certain chapter gets darker than usual for any reason, I'll disclaim. same goes for content warnings; if certain subjects are incorporated or mentioned, even if just in passing, I will disclaim up top here. I also use the tags xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: drinking, smoking weed

Rey holds out her wristband.

_Bl—eep,_ goes the scanner. A teenager in a red polo squats behind the counter and comes back up with five softballs, rolling them onto the tray in front of her.

“You get the big bear if you get them all in one go, and the little turtle if it takes more than one,” he monotones, half of his weary attention on the rowdy group approaching. 

Rey smiles and nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

The group in question is a large group of boys, and they’re loud. 

Rey’s shoulders instantly tense up. There’s maybe six or seven of them and their energy is chaotic.

From what she can make out, they’re ganging up on one of their members, shouting and taunting and egging him on to win the stupid game. They sound drunk, or just really hopped up on each other’s energy. She doesn’t look, but she hears the victim of their abuse laugh and curse and hit someone, she thinks. From the corner of her eye she sees him step up two spots to her left.

Quickly Rey looks down and picks up a ball, feeling the weight of it in her hand. It’s lighter than it should be but she’s not surprised. These things are always rigged; it just means she has to throw harder, right?

After a quick spacial awareness check to make sure she’s doesn't punch someone with her backswing, Rey rocks back and hurls the ball at the pyramid of milk bottles with all her might.

It soars over the top without even touching the stack. She huffs. She’d been quite confident she was going to be good at this.

The scanner beeps to her left and it gets her to look over.

Under the moon and glow of the neon carnival lights, everything feels a bit unreal. 

The first thing she notices is his height. The next, his hair— a shiny black mess reflecting red and blue from the flashing sign above. Then his nose, broad and angular like the rest of him, and his _arms_. They could probably crush her to death.

Of course, in the second takes her to stare, he somehow feels her gaze and turns his head. 

He’d been smiling at something one of his friends said, but the second their eyes meet, it falters. Rey feels her cheeks go hot and looks away, quickly picking up another ball.

His face is seared into her memory, though. Little pieces of dark hair had been stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was in all black apart from the thick silver wallet chain; his cut-up t-shirt-turned-tank-top revealed the edge of what looked to be a massive tattoo on his side. The overall effect of him was dark and thrilling— but not in some suave and smirky way. More in like a deadly hurricane kind-of-way. 

Still, that grin she felt like she’d intruded on had been so bright and boyish. A couple of his teeth were ever-so-slightly crooked. It humanized him. 

Rey tries to relax and throws again, painfully aware that he might be watching. The ball gets closer this time, soaring an inch to the left of the stack. 

A loud, sharp _crack!_ comes from her left. She jumps a little.

“ _Fuck!_ ” His voice is deep and wild, and it carries. Rey notices a few other people jump, too, some turning around with frowns to seek the source of the booming sound; the boy with a gun for an arm doesn’t seem to notice or care.

He shot the top bottle off his pyramid, sending it flying sideways and cracking against the wall— just the top bottle, though. It gives her an idea. She throws her third ball with a wicked spin to the wrist… but again, it misses. Worse this time.

She steps back and watches the hurricane boy take another turn with interest. He misses entirely, swearing loudly again. His friends shout suggestions at him, a couple of them miming what he needs to do with his arm.

One of them looks like he’s trying to suggest throwing underhand, but that’s a horrible idea.

If anything, Rey knows you’ve got to cut across, not up.

Realizing this, she takes a couple steps to her right, takes a centering breath, and cuts the ball at a diagonal while aiming for the center of the bottom row.

The sound is glorious. 

The whole thing goes down at once in a loud, satisfying clatter of pseudo-glass on concrete. Rey beams as the explosive noise fades into that of a few bottles rolling around and then into nothing.

That’s when she realizes it’s far too quiet. Instinctively and with a clench of fear, she looks to her left.

She regrets it immediately. They’re already looking at her— all of them.

The congregation of testosterone erupts into mixed reactions— cheering, whistling, stomping, mocking both her and their friend who they apparently think she beat. Rey freezes, feeling her face burn with equal anger and embarrassment. One in the back starts to step forward with a mischievous smirk like he’s about to say something and— Rey thinks she might explode if she doesn’t get the hell out of there.

She turns and bolts, nimbly weaving through the crowd at top speed without bumping into a single person. She stops when she’s near the gravity spinner a good block’s distance away from the game to let her heart rate return to normal. 

Who even were those guys? A wannabe boy band? A cult? They were all dressed in black and disgustingly hyper-masculine. Who travels in packs of seven, anyway? Who raised them to think ganging up on an isolated teenage girl like that is funny and cool?

Rey can handle herself just fine in situations like this, but she’d rather not have to in the first place. Her instincts have served her well so far in life but she still hates running away, hates giving the aggressor the satisfaction. Maybe she should find Finn and Rose again. Last she heard there were at the petting zoo. She’s only been away for thirty or so minutes, but she had wanted to give them at least a couple of hours alone together. 

“Hey!”

She turns and sees a dark and wavy tangled head of hair jogging through the crowd.

“Hey, you!” the voice comes again, definitely from the same head.

_Shit._ Keeping her back to the voice and her head down, Rey calmly starts in the opposite direction.

“Wait a second!” he calls. “Jesus, just— wait— for— a second!”

He catches up, a giant blue teddy bear under one arm. She recognizes him as the one who was throwing.

He seems even taller now, standing face to face. He looks her up and down with a cross of amusement and curiosity. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“This is yours,” the boy gestures to the bear, making no move to give it to her. “You won it. Impressive, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she replies tersely.

“I like your shirt.” He’s sure in no hurry to hand over that bear, isn’t he?

Rey looks down. Its her go-to— a too-small white t-shirt with album art on the front. It’s so well-worn now that the fabric has become sheer, letting the shape of her black bralette show right through. She’s normally fine with that— thinks it’s cute, really— but this guy’s attention only makes her feel self-conscious.

“You listen to The Buzzcocks?” she asks suspiciously.

He splits into a grin. “Yeah, sometimes. Wait, are you British?”

“Kind of. Are you American?” she mocks.

He ignores her derision. "I'm Ben."

“Rey,” she clips, and savagely yanks the teddy bear from him before he can protest, walking the hell away.

Ben grabs her wrist as she passes. His mistake. She twists his grip until it’s in hers and pushes back, using his own elbow to gut punch him in one swift movement. He stumbles.

“Holy shit,” he croaks, doubled over.

“You shouldn’t grab people,” Rey says sharply.

He looks up at her then, and it’s not what Rey expects. It’s strange and far too intimate for her liking. It’s nonsensical. She doesn’t know how to interpret it. 

He coughs and straightens up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Rey blinks, unsure of what to make of that, too. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Where are you going?” 

Rey blushes. The answer is ‘absolutely nowhere' but she doesn’t want to tell him that.

“Are you alone?” he asks when she takes too long to answer. 

She steps back defensively. “No. I’m with my brother and my friend.”

“Are you waiting for them?” Ben looks up at the gravity spinner as if they might be inside.

“No, I’m… I’m not with them right now.”

“So… you _are_ alone.”

Rey scowls. “You’re not with your friends right now, does that mean you’re alone?”

“No, of course not,” Ben says. Rey nods as if he has proven her point. But then he finishes with a smile, “Because I’m with you.” 

Rey groans, suppressing the tiny stupid part of her that wants to laugh. 

“So… where are you going?”

“Well, where are _you_ going?” Rey retorts. The longer she looks at him the more beautiful he is and it’s frustrating. His face is regal, his physicality imposing. His eyes are somehow both stone-cold scary and gentle at the same time.

“I was kind of hoping _you’d_ tell _me_ , sunshine.”

She glares at him, angry comeback on her lips. But… he really wants to hang out with her? Confused, Rey just ends up asking very plainly, “Why?”

He considers her with a lopsided smile. She can’t tell if he’s mocking her discomfort or just smiling… in fact, she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all, and finds herself terrified of what he might say. 

She can see the perspiration at his temples from the heat of the summer night. His hair, though messy, looks soft. She wonders what he smells like against the skin… if he’s as strong as he looks… why her mind is going there at all.

“...Because I retrieved your bear,” Ben explains like it’s simple. “So it’s my prize. Where are we going?”

Rey feels frozen. She clings tighter to the bear and tries to evaluate the boy in front of her. Some part of her wants to stay near him even if only for the reason of looking at him longer. He seems like an asshole, but maybe not all bad. Maybe even kind of good.

Ben rocks onto the balls of his feet a few times as she stares, then leans in. “…Do… you… smoke weed?”

Rey laughs and deflates a bit. _Something familiar. Something good._

“Yeah?” Ben smiles like he’s delighted to have unlocked her.

“Yeah,” Rey nods, allowing a small smile in return. She’ll take that. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Ben somehow knows the fairgrounds like the back of his hand, leading Rey along employee footpaths, in-between buildings, and eventually to where the grounds border the local high school football stadium. He probably lives around here, Rey figures. He probably grew up in Chandrila— this is probably _his_ high school.

“Will we be able to get back in?”

“Oh yeah,” Ben assures her. “And we’re going on the ferris wheel after this. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

“Not afraid of anything,” Rey sniffs, sitting criss-cross on the grass across from him, her big blue bear right by her side.

“Everybody’s afraid of something.”

“Bollocks,” Rey grins, “Not me.”

Ben laughs with the joint hanging on his lips, fishing his pocket for a lighter. Rey tries not to show how pleased she is that she amused him. He offers the thing to her once it’s lit and she takes it, savoring it. 

This is one of the only things Rey knows she’s good at. Being a foster kid in so many places has taught her that smoking weed is _the_ communal activity among the poor and downtrodden. No matter where she goes, there is always community in kush. She could get the older kids to respect her, make friends at new schools, get some goddamn peace— all from smoking, and from being able to keep up with others. She has a healthy respect for the substance. 

Still, she hasn’t smoked in a while— not since the official adoption. Rey generally tries to obey Maz’s wishes as best she can, but… god, she misses this.

She exhales with her head dropped back, the tang of the flower on her tongue like a warm blanket over her _soul_. Eyes closed, she sticks her arm out so he can take it back. His fingertips brush hers in the transfer and she has to suppress a chill.

When she opens her eyes, he’s openly staring at her. The floodlights above the stadium send shafts of light through the rows benches above, putting strange dancing reflections in Ben’s eyes.

“You okay there?” he asks finally.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a while.”

“Don’t have to be sorry. Don’t smoke anymore?”

“I’m really not supposed to anymore, no,” she admits. “But it’s a good thing. It’s only ‘cause my new adoptive mom actually cares about me.” She laughs to herself. “So it’s good. I’m allowed to break rules. She’s stuck with me now, anyway.”

She takes another hit and returns it. There’s a bout of silence in which Rey starts to worry that she’s made things too dark again by alluding to literally anything about her past. This always happens.

“How old are you?”

Rey’s heart drops. “How old are _you?”_ she pushes back.

“Eighteen.”

“Oh,” Rey says. It’s the age she probably would’ve guessed but hearing it still does things to her. She feels smaller; her heart beats harder. Is she really so worried he won’t want to hang out with her anymore? That didn’t matter to her ten minutes ago, did it?

“I’m sixteen.”

Ben’s eyes soften a touch and he smiles wickedly. “Aw.”

“Don’t ‘aw’ me!”

He laughs and holds out the joint, which Rey leans forward to snatch up. At least it’s a good sign that he’s not about to march her away to some adults or something. She wonders if he just graduated high school or if he’s on his last year. She doesn’t ask, afraid of making herself seem younger by caring.

She takes a deep drag, letting the smoke pool in her mouth mid-inhale and spill over her lower lip for a heartbeat before breathing it all in. She isn’t trying to show off— no, if she were, she’d show him a proper french inhale. But she’s not. So she doesn't.

Instead she flops down on the ground using her bear as a pillow and passes back the joint.

“Aw,” Ben says again pointedly, grinning down at Rey.

Rey scowls for half a second before realizing his meaning, the irony— her, a skinny sixteen year old, throwing herself down onto a teddy bear. She explodes into laughter. Ben watches from his sitting position, trying to contain his own so as not to cough a fit.

“Whatever,” she finally sighs when she can breathe, patting the bear. “This is my trophy. There’s nothing ‘aw’ about winning. Nothing ‘aw’ about crushing your enemies.”

“What?” Ben wheezes. “Me? I’m the enemy? You don’t even know me.”

“Mm, no. But I don’t see you with one of these.”

“You wouldn’t even have it if I hadn’t found you and brought it to you,” he counters.

“Yeah, but it’s mine.”

“I’d say it’s half-mine.”

“Do you propose we rip in half, sir?”

“Of course not. We can work out a schedule. I prefer weekends.”

Rey laughs again like a madwoman; Ben leans over her, smiling with unabashed satisfaction.

He takes a puff from the dwindling joint, the smoke back lit by the shards of stadium lighting from this angle. It’s beautiful. How did she not notice the dusting of beauty marks across his face the very first time she laid eyes on him? How can someone so tall and broad and wild and powerful-looking also be so painfully, beautifully delicate? 

He holds the joint between his fingers and considers it. “Here.”

Ben leans in and brings the filter to Rey’s lips. Her hand comes to meet his to hold it steady as she takes the final inhale. _His fingers are touching my lips,_ Rey thinks with numb wonder. The thought feels less real than the actual sensation. His hand is warm, the skin around his palm rough. She doesn’t want it to go away. It does.

She exhales gently, the smoke rustling the hair hanging down around his face above her.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Rey’s heart jumps. 

“No,” she answers automatically.

“Why not?” Ben asks, still hovering. His eyes are such a soft brown, even as they burn like this.

“I don’t even know you, you said so yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

She smirks, pulling her ace. “Do you prefer whiskey or rum?”

“What?”

Rey sits up, forcing Ben to get off of her. She reaches into the back pocket of her jeans shorts to retrieve the dual flask she and Finn had filled after some mild pregaming earlier. When the trio separated, Rey determined she was the one who deserved to keep it. Finn and Rose could have each other, but goddamnit, Rey was entitled to her buzz.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Ben accuses with a slowly widening grin.

“I had to make sure you were worthy. This has all been a test,” she tells him seriously.

“I’m honored.” He lowers his nose curiously to each side of the flask. “I guess we’re real delinquents now.”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve always been one.” Rey reaches up and pushes the thing closer to Ben’s face, urging him to drink.

“I think I could beat you there,” Ben grumbles before taking a sip from the whiskey side.

Rey takes it from him. “Doubtful,” she whispers with challenging, dead certainty.

Ben doesn’t ask what Rey means by that and neither does Rey ask what Ben meant. There’s just a strangely tense mutual consideration of each from the other.

Rey breaks it by taking a swig and wincing. She’s pretty used to straight liquor but hates it all the same; tonight she feels ablaze enough to just not care.

“So, Benjamin—”

“Ben.” He grabs it.

“So, Ben— _why_ do you have so many friends?”

He looks at her quizzically with his stoney eyes. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, at what point do new ones just become unnecessary? Why do you need seven?”

Ben busts up laughing. “You don’t like my friends, sunshine?”

Indescribable warmth blooms in Rey’s chest. 

“They seem like a lot of effort and very… loud.” _Fucking terrifying_. _Like you._

“I definitely like some of them more than others, if that answers your question.”

“No, actually, not at all.”

He scoffs, takes another draw, hands it back. “Are you really here with your brother and your friend?”

“Yes!”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Well, sorry! Why aren’t you with them, then?”

“They’re dating. Kind of. Pre-dating, if you will. That’s why.”

His face screws up. “Then why did they bring you?”

“Hey! Maybe it was _my_ idea. Maybe I _like_ doing things alone,” Rey shoots back, taking an extra long swig of the whiskey. She almost coughs some of it back up but manages not to, shoving the thing back at Ben and the hell away from her. “It wasn’t supposed be a weird third-wheel situation, actually,” she admits. “The fourth wheel just cancelled last second.”

“Oh,” Ben says, casually fidgeting with the cap, “like a double date?”

This makes Rey stop and look up. She has to look right back down again to hide the little smile she can’t control. He cares that she might’ve been on a date.

“No,” Rey tells him. “Just my friend Jess.”

“That’s too bad— that she cancelled, I mean.”

“Maybe not.”

He gives her that wondrous lopsided grin and Rey marvels at it. He’s so dark and brooding but _boyish_ at the same time— and so _gangly_. His limbs are thick with muscle but comically long, too, sitting with his legs crossed with that. There’s just so _much_ of him. She could disappear in it.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Nope,” Rey grins, heart leaping again. It’s a good feeling, though. 

Ben sighs and offers the flask back to her. She shakes her head. “You need more than I do.” 

The bigger you are, the more booze it takes— she learned that in her online health class this summer. Tolerance, or whatever. It’s the reason it takes her three drinks to get drunk and Finn at least five or six. Rey scans Ben, considers his body weight, and almost laughs. Maybe shoving the liquor on him isn’t a purely selfless, benevolent gesture. Maybe she just wants him spinning in the clouds with her.

He shrugs and takes such a long draw from the flask that Rey has to turn away to keep from triggering a second-hand gag reflex.

“Jesus, Ben,” Rey groans, nose scrunched up.

“Hey, if we’re really going to get fucked up at the fair, then I’m going to get _fucked up at the fair,_ you know?”

The laughter bubbles up in Rey so easily. He pushes some hair from his flushed face and _god,_ she wants to touch it.

“Ask me a question,” Ben demands, scooting himself closer.

“What?”

“A better one than that.”

“That wasn’t my—! Fuck you. Fine. What shampoo do you use?”

“That sulfate-free kind they have at Target,” he answers immediately with complete sincerity. “You know, the one with packaging that makes you think it’s lotion?”

Rey doubles over, nodding her head. She knows exactly what he’s talking about and it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in her fucking life.

“Can I touch it?” she asks, zeroed in.

“Sure.”

Rey reaches out and takes a lock by his temple and wraps it around her fingers. It’s as soft and thick as she imagined. She’s aware of him watching her face but doesn’t care. 

Her hand slides back to behind his ear where the hair is thickest. Ben’s eyes flutter closed. She’s mesmerized; his scalp is hot and his hairline is damp and the overall texture is smoother than her own. She lightly pulls on little bits throughout just to feel the smoothness slip through her fingers over and over.

Finally, gently, Rey retracts her hand. Ben’s eyes open millimeter by millimeter, unfocused and molten.

“Sorry,” Rey murmurs, realizing she might have overstepped in her inebriated fascination.

Ben just looks at her as though he’s not sure she’s really there. “No,” he says in a far-away voice. “S’nice.” He clears his throat. “Now I get a question.”

“Okay,” Rey agrees.

“What’s with the flask?”

“I kinda stole it. From one of my old foster dads. I thought it was cool that it had two chambers and he, you know, sucked. Why do you wear all black?”

Ben shrugs. “I don’t know, I like black. Where did you learn that thing you pulled on me earlier? The—” He pantomimes the elbow punch.

“My brother taught me that one. But I know how to defend myself in general.”

“Your foster brother?” 

“Yeah. Adopted brother now, I guess. Why did you leave your friends?”

“Because you were more interesting,” he answers like it’s obvious. “Why did you come with me?”

“Because you promised weed,” she replies in the same matter-of-fact tone.

Ben throws back his head and laughs. “Fair enough. Still, you don’t know me.”

“I know a little more now,” she says. “Maybe still not enough, though. Let’s see… what do you think happens when we _die?"_

He raises an eyebrow and visibly ponders this, accepting the challenge. “I think… everything just goes black and quiet, and then our bodies return to the earth.”

“You make that sound kind of nice.”

He shrugs. “Maybe it is. Why, do you believe differently?”

“Not really. It’s realistic. I just wanted to know what you’d say.” She watches him take another long draw. “Your turn.”

Ben wipes his lip with the back of his hand. “Okay, yeah. If you had to pick one movie to watch for the rest of your life, what would it be?

“Like, watch it constantly?”

“No no, like you could only watch this movie whenever you wanted to watch one. It’s the only one you’re allowed.”

She sighs. “You’re going to laugh at me.” Not that she really minds, truly, if his laughter is for her.

“Maybe.” He throws the word down like a challenge. “Come on then, say it.”

“Deadpool 2.”

Ben’s face lights up as he barks a laugh. “Specifically the sequel?”

“Yes! Have you seen it?”

He shakes his head and takes yet another pull from the flask, switching to the rum side; the whiskey is presumably all gone. “Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ with his lips.

“Oh,” she says, oddly disappointed. “Well. It’s really good, you should watch it. What’s yours, then?” She slaps his knee to get him to focus. “Come on, tell me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves, sighs, then shuts his eyes tightly as though in expectation of a blow to the face. “Singin’ In the Rain.” He opens one eye to judge her reaction.

Rey thinks she knows what that is, but realizes he’s anticipating a stronger reaction that she can give. “Oh, yeah. That’s an old musical, right?”

Ben opens both eyes and looks at her like she’s just told him that she’s from outer space. “You’ve never seen _Singin’ In the Rain?_ ”

“No,” Rey blinks. “But, like, it’s old, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it’s a classic!” Ben bursts, suddenly very impassioned. “My mom would make me watch it when I was a kid if I was home sick from school, over and over, and I hated it and hated it and hated it until one day I just… didn’t anymore.” He sighs. " _Jesus_ , it is utterly _iconic_ , you’ve seriously never seen it?”

Something about this rubs Rey the wrong way. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly get a classic film education as a kid. I saw the movies they showed at school and the ones I could sneak into,” she bites.

“Oh,” Ben says, and Rey’s stomach sinks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Why the hell did she say that? Now he’s all uncomfortable-looking and she’s made herself look pathetic when she didn’t even need to. She just _offered up_ incriminating evidence as to the trash she actually is.

“Is it on Netflix?” she asks, jumping in to try and change the tone. “I got a laptop last month. I could look for it on there.”

He smiles but it’s not the same as before. It’s more careful. Rey knows that she has changed something between them and she hates it. “It might be on there, I don’t know. You can find it on the Internet somewhere, though, if you try.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Rey nods, then angrily plucks the flask from him and throws back some rum and fast as possible so as not to taste it. She hates the stuff worse than even whiskey, but it was all she and Finn had access to.

Ben surprises her. “I’ll go again. What’s the first thing that made you really happy today?”

Rey thinks. 

“Rose. When she hugged me first,” she realizes aloud, then smiles to herself. “When Rose met us at the gates today, she yelled my name and basically tackled me. Before even Finn.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

Rey shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really have a lot of friends… or at least keep them,” she admits freely, feeling pleasantly warm inside from the liquor now that it’s cooling off outside. “Especially girl friends. But she matters to me and I know I matter to her, even if I’m ultimately nobody. It makes me happy.” It’s nice to tell someone this.

“Nobody?” he echoes. Rey realizes he’s gently prying the flask from her hands. She lets him. He sets it on the ground between them.

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” Rey insists, meeting his gaze. Her entire body blushes when she notices how intensely he’s watching her. “Because _everybody_ is nobody! It’s a healthy realism. ‘We all return to the earth’— isn’t that what you said? And I have plenty of self-worth, okay, it’s just that I _also_ know that everybody is ultimately nobody and they’d all do well to remember that.” 

_Especially me, though,_ she thinks sadly while maintaining her challenging eye contact with Ben, who is only looming closer with probing eyes. _Me, in particular. I’m actually, truly, literally nothing. I’d just rather just tell you before you notice, yourself._

“Well, you’re not to me,” Ben says with such certainty that it makes her throat constrict. 

She forces herself to laugh. “Thanks, but I think you’re missing the point.”

“No, I get it. I just disagree.” 

They’re close now. Rey notices a faint but substantial scar cutting through the left side of Ben’s face; she has to resist the urge to trace it with light fingertips. What did that to him? Who is he?

“I’ll allow it,” she breathes. Rey lets her eyes trip down his face. His lips are so nice, nicer than hers. _Nicer than anybody’s,_ she thinks. 

She’s close enough to feel the body heat radiating from him. It teases her bare skin across the negative space between them and makes her shiver.

Ben’s hand finds her waist, her hand slides to his shoulder and then, within a heartbeat, his mouth is on hers.

Rey doesn’t think, just reacts. His skin burns hot against hers and he tastes faintly of the rum they’ve been sharing. She doesn’t mind it at all.

His lips feel as soft to the touch as they look, but could not be called gentle. Hungry is a better word— soft but hungry. 

It’s nice. It’s more than nice. Why had she refused him earlier? It seems silly, maybe even unthinkable, now that she feels like all she wants to do— all she might ever want to do— is get closer to him. Rey likes everything about Ben, she thinks vaguely as her mind tailspins— the shape of his lips, the muscle under her fingers, the taste of his mouth, the tangled silk of his hair, the strength in his hands, the smell of his skin, the salt of his sweat… all of it. It all gives Rey a peculiar feeling that she doesn’t question because she knows she can’t begin to understand. All she can do is stay afloat in the flood and not let go of him.

She doesn’t exactly know what she’s doing, but she does her best to follow. Without realizing it, Rey’s hands wind themselves into his shirt.

His hand flexes and tightens at her waist immediately. He tilts his head and recaptures her mouth at a steeper angle, opening the kiss further. Rey thinks she might physically melt under his touch; she thinks of how disgustingly cliche it is that she is turning to putty because of some boy under some bleachers. She finds she doesn’t care. He pushes and pulls at her with delirious heat, and a pathetic, involuntary little noise slips her throat when his tongue finds hers.

All at once, Ben sweeps his arms and pulls her roughly into his lap. She squeals and almost topples sideways, quickly adjusting by maneuvering her legs to either side of him. She revels in the overall warmth, at being surrounded by him, at being encased in his Ben-ness. It feels right. She’d wondered earlier what exactly he might smell like— clean, she thinks now. He smells like clean laundry and smoke and vague, sweet musk.

Rey, still dizzy, finds herself in an elevated position an inch or so above Ben's eye line.

“Thought you might punch me,” he murmurs with a dazed expression, not loosening his grip an inch.

“I thought about it,” Rey lies, then smirks. “But you really risked that.”

“I really did.”

Rey traipses her hands through his hair once more with an unrushed curiosity, high on the power of it. Ben makes no move in any direction, just watches her face and breathes deeply. She knows because she can feel it— she can feel each deliberate breath against her. The tell-tale unsteady rhythm of it coils something tighter and tighter inside her stomach.

Lightly, she settles her hands around his jaw and, after a final moment of breathless hesitation, leans in, herself.

Ben kisses strong and deep and like he’s starving. She might’ve found it funny if she could spare a breath to laugh; she can’t. His grip widens, large hands sliding across her back to take her by the hips. Any humor that might’ve existed vanishes in the skimming of lips and teeth. It’s like free fall.

Rey has kissed boys before. Two, to be exact. Both were mostly out of curiosity— the first was sweet and innocent, shared with a classmate in the sixth grade. The other, not so sweet. It was with an older boy she doesn’t remember the name of at a house party in her last placement, spurred purely by vodka and boredom and bravado. All she remembers now is how clumsy it was and the relief she felt when she was pulled away by her friend. 

That was all before she moved here, though. That was before Rey decided to be the healthy-choice-making girl that Maz deserves as a daughter. The girl she _owes_ her. Rey feels a twist of guilt.

Ben chokes a groan as she tears away.

“You said something about a ferris wheel?” she breathes.

He looks at her with a glassy, confounded expression that dissolves into clarity after a couple seconds. Then he huffs a smile. 

“Alright, sunshine. Climb on.”

Rey clings tightly to Ben’s back as he jostles them through the crowd, grinning like a damn fool.

“Sorry!” she giggles over her shoulder after Ben causes a guy to slosh some of his beer on the ground.

“Not really!” he calls behind them even louder, and Rey slaps him lightly in the side of the face with the bear.

“Ben! Are you _trying_ to pick a fight?”

“Always.”

“You know, I’m not really surprised by that.”

Ben drops her unceremoniously when they reach the ticket-taker, grumbling when they’re assigned to a yellow car. She watches him struggle to sit across from her, thoroughly enjoying the funny way he has to contort himself to get his body through the little door.

“What’s wrong with yellow?” she asks once the door latches behind him.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with yellow?’ It’s _yellow,_ ” he scoffs, leaning back.

“Yellow is my favorite color.”

“You’re joking.” 

His words aren’t slurred or anything, but they have a charming inebriated lilt to them.

“Not even a little.” 

Rey, in contrast, thinks she’s doing just fine. She could be totally sober. _But_ it’s also kind of hard to judge when she’s hearing her words out loud before she realizes she’s thought them. The whole process is quite blurry.

“Well…” he sighs. “Yeah, no. That’s gross.”

Rey throws the bear in his face. “Yellow is the color of the sun! And daffodils! And… ducklings!”

“Still gross.”

Rey gapes and goes to grab the bear so she can hit him again, but he’s already got it well out of her reach.

Rey goes on offense. “Yours is _black.”_ She gestures accusingly to his top, a worn t-shirt that he obviously just cut the sleeves off of. “Black like… like _tar_ and _coal_ and _darkness!_ ”

“What about black like space and obsidian and… ink?”

She sniffs. “Well. That’s nice, I guess.”

He smiles and shakes his head at her. “It’s blue, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Just ‘oh?’”

“I like blue, too.”

“Well there you go! Excellent. We’ve got _sunshine_ and _blue skies_.”

She feels stupidly shy at the way he smiles at her, considering what they were doing ten minutes ago was much more blush-worthy. A glance out the window tells her they’re halfway to the top; the crowds of people below have all shrunk and quieted to a distant, indistinct chatter.

“You take all the stray girls you find up here, Ben?”

He snorts. “No. Last year I came up with Cardo, though. But then he went and acted like he was going to try and fucking throw me off the thing so I broke his nose.” He shrugs smugly. “Self-defense.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“No one’s tried anything since.”

“ _No one’s tried—?_ ” Rey sputters. “—Why _would_ they?”

“Uh, because everyone saw Cardo’s nose.”

“ _No,_ Ben, I meant—” _Why would you have to intimidate your own friends into not hurting you?_

“—You know, I think I could’ve actually survived the fall if I’d landed on that tent— the one over the kettle corn, you see it?” He points out the window.

“Oh my god.” Rey rolls her eyes and switches to his side, rocking the car in the process. He grins as she settles beside him.

“If you try to throw me over, I _will_ have to defend myself,” he warns. “And I don’t discriminate.” He flexes his fist as though to demonstrate his willingness to punch a girl. 

Rey notices a curious discoloration on his knuckles and grabs the fist from the air, uncurling his fingers into her open palm. 

His hand looks a good time-and-a-half larger than hers when they’re laid against each other like this. 

Rey can tell even in the semi-darkness that the discoloration on his outside knuckles is a bruise— an older one marbled with lighter colors, but a bruise all the same. She wonders what or who he hit to get it. She wonders how often this happens.

“I see. Should I be afraid?” Rey jokes, skimming a thumb across the bones. She looks up. Ben’s eyes are unexpectedly calm and quiet as they look at her.

“No,” he admits softly. Rey smiles down at his hand and lets a lull settle between them. 

She flips it over and examines his palm, fingers brushing across thick callouses.

“I once lived with a girl who read palms and kept crystals and did tarot and all that,” Rey muses. “She annoyed the living hell out of me… but she did always seem happier than the rest of us.”

“Probably helped her feel more in control of everything.”

“Wow… yeah. That’s quite insightful.”

He shrugs. “It’s easier to create reasons for things than to accept there are none.”

“You’ve really thought about this.” 

“You haven’t?”

“I mean I guess, yeah,” she frowns, realizing she definitely has opinions on the subject. “Yeah— like, the idea of destiny always kind of pissed me off. Anything that tells me any part of my life is predetermined can fuck right off.”

Ben laughs. “You tell ‘em, sunshine.”

From anyone else, the endearment would result in some choice words or a jab in the ribs, but not from Ben. She can’t pinpoint why, but… not from Ben.

“My mom uses the word ‘fate’ a lot,” Ben says thoughtfully. “She’s told me it led her to her career… her friends… her ‘soulmate,’ things like that… but she also just as seriously calls it ‘fate’ when there’s a sale at Macy’s if she’s been thinking about a new scarf.”

Rey laughs and when Ben glances at her, he looks… grateful. Or relieved? It doesn’t make sense to her but she’s glad to have done the right thing.

“It’s just that lines start to blur between what you control and what you don’t. Gets dangerous, believing in things like that,” he adds, his far-away gaze dancing aimlessly across the carnival. “Because then it starts to do the controlling.”

“And let me guess, nothing controls you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Rey bites her lip, tracing the main three lines across his palm.

“Life line… head line… heart line.” She catches the look he throws her and smiles. “She was annoying as hell, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t find it interesting, okay?”

Ben laughs. “So you can read it, then?”

“Well…” She squints. “These little offshoots here definitely mean something, but I don’t remember what… and these two cross, which is uncommon, but again, I don’t actually remember what it means… And your life line, it’s deep… and see here, it has all these little breaks…” She trails off, sickening familiarity washing over her.

Rey remembers this one. She remembers because she has those same little breaks in her life line, too. She remembers spending months and months obsessively rubbing at them with her thumbs as a nervous habit after learning what they meant. 

They’re supposedly indicative of all the traumas that have affected or influenced the direction of a person’s life. 

_Indicative of your level of damage_ , she had translated immediately. _A literal, physical tally_ o _f your chances in life diminishing. Subtracting. Wasting to nothing._

“…But you don’t know what that means, either?” Ben fills in.

“No,” Rey affirms, swallowing hard and giving him a tense smile, “I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

She doesn’t even believe in this bullshit, but still she feels the tingle of old anxieties awakening in the depths of her conscious. She returns Ben’s hand to him and surreptitiously finds the texture of the her own life line in her palm with a thumb, just to double check it’s still there. She knows it is, but she still has to feel it. She wishes she didn’t feel the compulsion, but once it’s there she _has_ to quiet it. She _has_ to.

“Hey,” Ben frowns. “It’s okay. Let it go. None of it matters, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Rey says, forcing her hands down by her sides. She looks for a distraction. “Hey, I think we’re at the top.”

They are, and it’s beautiful. The fairgrounds are already on an elevated part of the city, letting the view stretch farther than the ride would’ve allowed alone. 

It’s colder, too, with the higher altitude and stronger wind.

“Are you from here?” Rey asks, eyeing the area of lights that she knows to be the city’s main street.

“Yeah,” he answers, but doesn’t seemed too thrilled about it.

“Is it good? Is it a good place?” She sounds younger than she means to and probably looks it, too, curling inward to hug her own ribcage and conserve heat.

He thinks about this. “I think so. I mean— I don’t like it here, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a good place. I’m prejudiced, but Chandrila itself is fine. Maybe a little bland, a little conservative, a little…hyper- _Americana_ , but also perfectly fine.”

That’s what Rey has pretty much thought so far, too. “Well said. You’re pretty thoughtful for a degenerate.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “But I definitely said ‘delinquent,’ not degenerate.” Rey is about to ask him about this self-described prejudice and delinquency, desperate to know more about him, when he notices her semi-huddled position. “Are you okay?”

Reflex. “Yeah, fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

She sighs. “I _am_ fine. I am _also_ a little cold.”

He gives her a pointed look. “Well… you could always get on the floor to hide from the wind.” 

“Wow. Great idea. Thanks.”

“Or… I could rip the bear open for you and you could wear him like a jacket.”

“ _Ben!_ ” she laughs, horrified. “No!”

“Or… you could come here.”

Rey glares at his little self-satisfied smile, but her heart does flips. She’s not sure why she’s so opposed to his help. She’s not sure why she’s so irrationally scared of the idea that he might realize she _likes him._ Why does getting what she wants feel so counterintuitive?

Wordlessly, he swings his arm across the top of the bench, leaving his side wide open for her.

For once, her wants trump her fears.

Rey closes the distance, committing fully and pressing her face into his chest. His arm falls from the bench and around her shoulders. He is _so_ warm that she literally can’t think of anything else for a good twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” Rey muffles into his shirt. “Oh my _goddddd_.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs. She thinks she feels some of her hair move ever so slightly and wonders if he’s playing with it. She shivers.

Even when teasing her, Ben’s words are borne of such kindness. Even when pretending to be suggestive, his actual touch is shockingly tender. 

_Bruised-knuckled Ben is capable of incredible softness,_ Rey wonders.

When the ferris wheel releases them back into the buzzing fair, Rey is both sad and glad to be let free— at some point during the second round, even with Ben as a furnace, the chill amplified to the point of discomfort. Down on the ground— with the crowds and people and lights and barbecues and popcorn stands and lack of wind— the temperature is bearable again. 

Rey knows that Finn and Rose will be expecting to meet back up with her soon. Maz, bless her soul, has instituted a curfew, which Rey finds adorable.

So she runs, pulling Ben by the hand, to the first fun house she sees that doesn’t have a line. 

Everything inside is far too small for him, and she giggles wildly when he almost slips all the way down a cramped staircase, his big feet struggling to catch on the little footholds. He catches himself on the rails just in time, cursing the _‘fucking inescapable cheap plastic gerbil-sized torture chamber!’_ over and over again in increasingly obscene and creative ways.

The entire second floor is made of mirrors— panels of clear glass, panels of mirrors, and a secret invisible path that leads through them to the next and last level.

Rey focuses all her attention, insisting that she can figure it all out and that Ben just needs to follow. He does at first, but they inevitably get separated after a few minutes when she must’ve gotten too excited and ventured too far ahead.

“Ben?” she calls when she realizes he’s not behind her. The sound reverberates, just hitting and bouncing off the floor-to-ceiling plexiglass surrounding her. She winces. Does sound carry at all in here? He might still have heard her, just muffled. She tries again. “Ben!”

She thinks she hears something in return, but she can’t tell what it was. She has no reason to even believe it was Ben, and no concept of how far away it came from. 

It might be stupid, but Rey starts to feel trapped. And she does not like it. 

She heads back in the direction she think she came, but is no longer sure what that way originally was.

She starts jogging, switching directions often, but only meeting her own flushed reflection over and over at every turn.

“Ben!”

No answer at all this time. Maybe she should just try to find the exit; the only problem is that she has well and truly disoriented herself even worse than before.

_Just pick a direction._

She does. She glares at her reflection every time she’s met with it, hoping every time it’ll be a different face from hers. She’s continually disappointed, becoming more and more panicked with every passing second.

Rey stops altogether and stares at herself. 

…Maybe Ben left. 

Maybe she’s running around in here alone like a fucking idiot. This is basically the perfect place to ditch someone, right? By the time she finds her way out of here, he could easily be long gone with his friends. Maybe the separation wasn’t an accident at all. Maybe it was his way out.

She hates that she is forced to face herself in this moment. She’s forced to see the girl that everyone else sees. In every direction, she has no choice but to really _look_ at the terrifying kaleidoscope of reflections, to _look_ at the girl trapped in them _._

Her knees are bruised and bony. Her limbs are elongated in that stringy, sinewy way. Otherwise, she’s built like a plank of wood. Every part of her is plain, every feature, every color, every detail. The girl’s appearance isn’t what she would choose, yes, but that’s not what Rey can’t bear to see. It’s not what’s threatening to make her cry— it’s the other details she knows to look for.

Her shoes, for one, have holes in the canvas. The shirt she is wearing was stolen. The mascara, too.

The story behind the jagged scar up her thigh is one only a handful of social workers know. The faded cigarette burns on her shoulder, just covered by her sleeve, are unfortunately self-explanatory.

The orange ticket-wristband on her arm was paid for by her new adoptive mother, a woman whose love stemmed from pity. Like most everything the girl has.

The girl is a product of pity and scraps and still, over and over, she is stupid enough to forget what that means. 

She still leads herself places she doesn’t belong and she still expects people to see something other than what she actually is. Which is nothing.

She is alone. She may be adjacent to others, among others, _with_ others… but she is always alone, and always has been. 

Now Rey has to stare at her, trapped in the reflections, and watch pathetic tears form as she realizes she’s let herself down again by forgetting the truth. By expecting more. Her thumb finds the fragmented lifeline in her palm and presses down hard as it can. It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure brings some strange clarity.

Rey doesn’t let the tears fall. She takes a deep breath instead.

She is still strong; she will always claim that title for herself, even amongst all the bad, even amongst everything else. Even in this moment. She survives. That is the other thing Rey knows she is good at. Now she just has to _be_ good at it.

She starts moving through the maze again, figuring that she’ll have to stumble upon either the entrance or exit eventually. She wonders if Finn and Rose are waiting for her at their established check point already. She doesn’t think she’ll tell them about Ben. Better not to.

That’s when she rounds a random corner and startles at a grossly misshapen reflection. 

It rolls its eyes. “God, you really suck at this. I think I should take over.”

It’s him… It’s Ben. He’s just _standing_ there. 

A million thoughts and feelings flood Rey at once. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The reigning feeling out of all the good and the bad, though…is happiness. Rey is _happy_ to see him, happy that he is here, and happy that she was wrong. 

A big, dumb smile lights her face even as she thinks she might cry from relief. “Yeah, I know. I think you should, too.”

With Ben leading, they actually escape pretty quickly. Rey agrees to never do that again. The third and final floor of the fun house is full of random baubles and distortion mirrors and squeaky punching bags— dumb stuff like that, all spread out along a railing that looks down on the channel of moving people outside. 

Ben lobs a half-hearted kick at a punching bag and Rey follows up with a hard one.

“Ow,” she says, shaking out her foot.

“Those aren’t really meant for _actual_ punching. Or kicking.”

“No shit.”

He seems bothered by this and turns, effectively backing her against a divider.

“I didn’t suggest you kick it, sunshine, you did that yourself.”

An unfamiliar little thrill ripples up Rey’s spine and she laughs.

On tip-toe, she grabs Ben around the neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. Then, after half a second of surprise, Ben is kissing her— they’re kissing each other.

Rey’s heart hammers in her throat. She feels more awake than she’s felt in— maybe ever.

One of his hands leans into the wall next to her face as the other wraps around her waist, using it to pull her tightly against him. His enthusiasm is simultaneously endearing and bone-chillingly raw. It takes every coherent thought in her brain and coaxes it into needy mush.

Rey winds a hand into Ben’s hair, he shudders. She pulls, he tightens his grip. She arches in response, and he slows the kiss into something aching. _He has no right to know how to kiss like that,_ she thinks weakly. But she doesn’t want it to stop. She’s at the complete mercy of it and it would appear that so is he.

Loud noises come from downstairs; they both ignore it. Ben trails slow, wet kisses down her jaw and Rey sighs, starting to feel heavy. It sounds different outside. Quieter?

She guides Ben’s face up to hers again to feel the warmth of his mouth on hers again but ends up just holding his face and smiling at it like an idiot. His eyes are dark, his lips are wet, but when he sees her, he smiles back. He smiles at her far brighter than she deserves. He smiles like the sun has just come up over the fucking apocalypse. 

Loud fanfare music blasts through the massive speakers outside. Rey jumps, knocking her forehead into his. “Shit! Sorry!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! We thank you for coming to Chandrila’s annual Summer of Fun at the Fair! We hope you enjoyed this year’s theme, Farm Fresh Festivities! We care about your produce, and we care about your fun!”

“Oh god,” Ben groans. Rey laughs, but the announcer isn’t done.

“Here at the fairgrounds, we care about the environment. On your way to the exits…”

“Wait. What time is it?” Rey asks.

“..please be sure to dispose of your trash and recyclable materials in the designated receptacles. All attractions are now closed, but don’t fear! You can still exchange your…”

“It’s ten. They’re closing.”

“…From everyone here at the fair, we wish you a good night and a great year. Please drive safe and adhere the speed limit in the parking lot. The designated taxis and ride-share pick up/drop off is located at the…”

Rey’s first two thought are _No! I don’t want to leave,_ and _Oh shit— Finn and Rose._

“My friends,” Rey groans. “Oh my god. I— I thought it was like _nine_!”

Ben gives her some space. “Hey, it’s okay. Where are they?”

“I was supposed to meet them in front of the main stage like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Look, that’s right outside. They’ll probably still be there. Come on.” Ben grabs her hand and leads her away and it’s the softest thing Rey has ever experienced.

Downstairs, Rey can immediately tell that Rose and Finn aren’t at the stage. She’s in the process of switching to a new phone under Maz’s carrier and can’t call them— Ben offers his phone, but Rey naively didn’t think to write their numbers down in case of something like this.

“Shit,” Ben hisses under his breath, out of nowhere. Rey looks up and realizes he’s distracted. He’s cursing at something else entirely. He sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“What?” 

“I just have to— just wait here, okay? I’ll come right back. I promise.” Ben looks legitimately distressed— pissed off, mostly. “I’ll come back,” he says again when he sees her expression. Then, with a frustrated and apologetic wince, then whips around and disappears into the crowd.

“Wait!” Rey calls, not liking this at all. A lump forms in her throat. “Ben, wait!” 

She so badly wants to run after him but also knows she’s in no position to separate herself from the rendezvous point.

“Found her!” a chipper voice calls. Rey whips around, her rising panic quelled immediately at the sight of her friend.

“Rose,” she sighs in relief, accepting the hug the shorter girl throws at her.

Finn follow a few yards behind. Neither of them look upset with her, to more of Rey’s relief.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“What? Oh, yeah. No worries. Us too. Rose and I were just at the fortune teller.”

“She was amazing!” Rose cries. “Not that I believe in that stuff. But still!”

“Yeah, amazing. But Rey, while we were there we ran into—”

“Me.” A guy that Rey didn’t notice was hanging behind Finn steps forward. “They ran into me.”

The guy is around their age with artfully tousled brown hair and a bold, friendly presence. He gives her a dazzling grin and a little bow. Rey blushes for some reason. She can admit that he’s objectively attractive and _bowing at_ her— that kind of concentrated attention is reason enough.

“Rey, this is Poe Dameron. I told you about him, remember?”

“Oh god,” Poe shakes his head with good humor. “What did you tell you?”

“I—” Rey begins.

“Nothing bad, I hope. Finn says you’re starting at Chandrila this year, is that true?”

Rey sees Finn roll his eyes to Rose behind Poe. “Yeah, I’m a junior.”

Finn cuts in. “Anyways, Poe offered to drive us home and I took him up on it so that Paige doesn’t have to come get us. She was already nice enough to drop us off,” he smiles and looks at Rose who is adorably smiling back. “He’s parked in the west lot, are you ready to go?”

Something inside Rey freezes. “Uh…” 

Casually, she looks around for any sign of Ben while simultaneously trying not to seem like she’s looking for someone. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Are you cold?” Poe asks, advancing with sympathetic eyes. Rey realizes she has her arms wrapped around herself again, but not from cold.

“No,” she says too quickly and forcefully, then panics. “Uh, sorry. I just— I have to— I’ll be right back.”

Rey shoves her teddy bear at Finn to hold and dips into the crowd of foot traffic before anyone can ask why. 

She wanders around the general area that she and Ben were last together for seven or eight full minutes, concealed from her friends by the thick stream of people leaving the fairgrounds. Her eyes scan every person she passes, but none of them are Ben. She stays in one spot for a while, thinking that maybe she would be more easily visible that way. 

At one point an old woman notices her and asks if she needs help, which nearly sends Rey into tears. The crowds all dissipate by the time it takes Rey to realize what has happened. There is no crowd to hide from her friends in, no crowd that is hiding her from _him_.

She finally returns to her friends and apologizes— she lies, telling them that she lost her ring on one of the rides. Finn gives her a funny look but doesn’t press the issue. She feels empty. _He said he would come back._

_Ben._

Maybe there is an explanation. Maybe he goes to her school and she’ll see him and demand one. 

Maybe not. Maybe she’ll never see him again.

Staring out another car window next to another new friend beginning another supposed fresh start, Rey watches the newest unfamiliar city fly by, wondering not for the first time if it’s just easier to be alone.

—————————————————————————

“So. How do you _really_ feel about this, Rey?” Dr. Holdo asks as soon as the door closes behind Maz. 

“What?”

“Just kidding. Therapists do that, you know.”

“Oh. Right. Ha.” 

_Three times a week,_ Rey sings to herself. _Only two hours a day, three times a week._ She can do it, she knows she can. Dr. Holdo seems like she actually wants to be here, which is the first good sign. In her experience, many government-subsidized versions of this kind of program are run by people who seem to hate children on principle.

“And we’ll talk about that, just not right now,” she clarifies, tapping Rey’s folder with her schedule inside. “But I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you think you already know how _all_ of this works, don’t you?”

Rey’s eyes nearly bulge from her head in horror. “No! Not at all! I’m sorry if I—”

“I meant because you’ve been to other programs, honey.”

“Oh— right. Yeah.”

“I like to think my kids like it here. I think you will too.” She smiles warmly and checks her watch. “Speaking of.”

Dr. Holdo stands from her desk, revealing the physicality of a supermodel. Rey already knew how tall the doctor was, but it feels like a shock every time she’s reminded. She watches the woman pat her bouncy lilac-colored hair as she walks to the door of her office, then stop.

“You coming?”

The main meeting space is quite plain, as Rey has found to be standard for these places. The main feature of the room is the big round table at the center. There’s a stack of papers in the center, likely handouts waiting to be passed. The entire back wall is a window overlooking a tiny garden. If Rey has a choice, she wants to sit over there.

“Take a seat wherever you’d like,” Dr. Holdo smiles, giving Rey a knowing look. “Everyone should already be here— normally you’ll be able to walk right in, but since I was away doing your intake they had to be patient and wait in the foyer. I’ll be right back.”

She disappears through a side door, leaving Rey alone in the big bland room. She chooses a seat near the window like she had wanted to and clasps her hands nervously, wondering how big the group will be. She hopes not too big.

The door unlocks from the outside and people start to file in. First is the doctor herself, followed by all the teenagers that Rey knows she will come to know quite well, whether she likes it or not. They all look normal enough— that is, nobody looks overtly crazy. They all notice her with curiosity, but nobody is being a dick about it. Rey is comforted by the lack of red flags so far. 

The rush ends and everyone sits down at the table, chattering— Rey counts five kids, not including herself. That’s pretty good. _That’s private healthcare for you,_ Rey thinks— yet another thing Maz has given her. The door is finally about to click shut when someone on the other side catches it at the last second.

It swings back open, and behind it is a boy.

A tall boy. A tall boy with dark hair and a regal nose.

To say that she doesn’t recognize him immediately would be a lie. It would be impossible for her _not_ to recognize him. It’s just that he seems so… different.

His hair is clean and relaxed, swept over from its side parting in soft waves. He’s wearing a normal, not-ripped-up black t-shirt and navy jeans. There’s a _backpack_ slung over his shoulder. He looks so… neat. Normal. 

And, in the daylight, so much more somber.

“Ben,” Dr. Holdo calls. “Come on in, take a seat.”

Rey isn’t prepared for him to notice her, but of course he does. He freezes in the doorway with a muddied, unintelligible cross of emotions turning through his features. 

Rey can’t decipher everything flashing across his face, but what she _does_ sense makes _her_ freeze. She sees shock. Horror. Anger. Misery. Embarrassment. _Disgust_. The horrible moment stretches on forever. 

_He doesn’t want me here,_ she decodes emptily. Rey is not sure this is really happening. That might be a good thing— if she _were_ sure of it, she might actually throw up. 

_Why?_ Why is he looking at her like that? He didn’t even give her the time or chance to think that he might be _glad_ to see her. No. His revulsion was immediate.

“Ben,” Dr. Holdo sighs, looking up from her paperwork. “ _Please_ — Oh, do you know Rey here?”

“No,” he says immediately, then clears his throat. “No.”

Rey’s face burns with something like humiliation. 

He… really doesn’t want to be associated with her at all? Doesn’t even want to claim acquaintance?

Rey is furious but, as her cheeks cool, she manages to harden her own expression into something smooth and impenetrable.

Did she do something to deserve this? Does he regret last night? Did he just plan on pretending that she never existed after he ditched her? _Well, surprise! You’re not the only moody teenager in the world who needs therapy, asshole! Here I am!_

Looking mortified, Ben scrambles his way into a chair by the door. On the opposite side of the table, of course. She could say something right now, Rey realizes. She could say, _‘Oh no, but we do know each other! Why don’t you tell them, Ben?’_ and out him in front of everyone as an asshole and a coward.

Something tells her that isn’t a great way to start six new relationships. Besides, if she’s honest with herself… she’s hurt. Far too hurt to be capable of that right now. She’ll play along, if that’s what he wants. It’s the path of least resistance. And if it is what he wants, she will _have_ to deal with it. She’ll survive it, like always, even if she has to choke back tears to do it.

“Alright, welcome everyone. We’re going to go around and check in, but first I’d like to introduce a new member of the group…” Dr. Holdo turns to Rey.

Somehow, Rey finds it in herself to smile at everyone. Everyone except him. “Hi. I’m Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 1: hi! okay, this chapter is effectively a prologue. for your sake, please don’t expect the rest of the fic to follow this pace and pattern. this is the calm before the storm… the serve before the spike… the assembly of the tower before the Jenga… you get the idea. I just don’t want anyone to be bummed out when the rest of the chapters aren’t only them doing stuff together all happy and peaceful and cute constantly. I deal in angst, you’ve been warned :)
> 
> the title of this fic comes from Fall Out Boy's song "The Last of the Real Ones," which I consider to be this fic's Official Vibe as a whole. 
> 
> however this CHAPTER's vibe ✔️: "Baby" by Bishop Briggs.
> 
> thanks for reading! xx


	2. so cold, so callous, so clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey confronts Ben.

  


Dr. Holdo’s group reminds Rey very much of school. Everyone gets a binder full of materials to keep hand-outs and assignments and free-writes in. Most of the kids in the group seem pretty cool to her— she’s met kids in similar circumstances that were either borderline feral or just plain mean. The worst one out of this group, though, is just an asshole. Nothing special. She’s dealt with far worse.

  


Everyone shared a couple of things from their ‘hopes and worries’ list for the school year; constructive feedback was encouraged and passed around. The only helpful information Rey was able to glean from any of it, though, was that Ben is, in fact, a senior at Chandrila High. He barely spoke during group, but she was able to figure it out from context. Which means she’ll likely be seeing him there. Yay.

  


She’s nervous for the first day of classes but it actually goes really well.

  


Rey took a couple of online courses over the summer to wrangle some extra credits to make sure she wouldn’t have to take any classes below her grade level this year. That happened at her last school due to incongruities between school districts, and she hated it. Luckily Maz thought of the online solution and helped set it up— _thank god for Maz Kanata,_ she's found herself thinking over and over recently.

  


Rey is thrilled to get her official schedule and have classes with Finn, Rose, Jess, and her new friend Poe. The school is such a nice one— _my school_ , Rey amends. It’s strange for Rey to think of it as _her_ school, now that she knows she’s staying here. She’ll be graduating from this school. It’ll become her alma mater. The people around her right now are the same people she’ll see at reunions ten, twenty, thirty years from now. The permanency of it all astounds her.

  


Rey chose digital photography as her elective after reading online about the teacher not allowing fancy cameras. He apparently believes more in the content of the work and in the challenge of using simple cameras like the ones on most smartphones. The idea that she would be on an even creative playing field with her peers was appealing enough to get her to sign up.

  


The tune changes, though, when she walks into photography as her second-to-last period of the day and sees _him_ sitting alone at a table in the back left.

  


He’s hunched over and reading something so intently that he doesn’t notice her walk in. Rey, trying _not_ to let his presence dictate her choices, picks a seat against the window on the same side of the room. It puts an entire table between them; that’ll have to be good enough for him.

  


Mr. Q calls attendance. She’s pleasantly surprised when he pronounces ‘Rey Niima’ correctly on his first try.

  


“Ben Solo?”

  


“Here.” The volume of his voice is soft, but the texture is rough. It doesn’t line up with her memory of the boy from the fair— at least not the boy from the milk jug toss, not the loud and wild, explosive hurricane she first laid eyes on. The person she spent time with after, however… never mind. There’s no point in remembering that now.

  


Rey doesn’t know how she never thought to wonder about his last name, though… Solo. _Ben Solo. Ben Solo. Ben Solo._ She hates that it rolls off the tongue so well. She hates that she has to admit that she kind of likes it.

  


Paige Tico is called next— Rey hadn’t spotted her. At least there’s one friendly face in here if she needs it. Rose’s older sister isn’t really Rey’s friend, but Rey thinks she easily could be. She’s a straight-to-the-point kind of person, which Rey appreciates.

  


Mr. Q starts to go over the syllabus on the projector, but Rey has already read it. All she can think of as he summarizes the dry material, frustratingly, is her close proximity to Ben. She wonders what he’s thinking about and if he even cares that she’s here at all. She knows it’s a waste of energy, but she can’t help but to start thinking of all the things she wants to say to him and all the things she wants to _know_ but can’t ask.

  


Why is he being like this?

  


What the fuck is his problem?

  


If this is Ben Solo, then who the hell did she smoke with on Friday night? Who did she kiss?

  


Did he mean _any_ of it? Was he just screwing around?

  


_Maybe he barely remembers it._ She pushed the flask on him pretty hard.

  


_No,_ she thinks. The idea makes her uneasy enough to shove aside, but it doesn’t make enough sense to be credible, either. Neither of them were _that_ drunk. The reaction he gave to seeing her on Saturday was clear; he just didn’t want to see her there, and felt strongly enough about it to lie to their entire group about it.

  


And why _is_ he in Dr. Holdo’s intensive outpatient program, anyway?

  


Nothing about Ben Solo makes sense. Every question she thinks of leads to three more.

  


In the deepest corner of her mind, though, Rey asks the scariest questions of all— the ones that make her feel sick when she dares allow herself to think them. _Why didn’t you come back? Why did you lie? Why did you change your mind? What did I do?_

  


“On the handout, I’ve put six descriptions of basic composition elements I want you to recreate for me. Like I said, you’ll only need your phones. I’ll give you thirty minutes to use the space around us to take photos that exhibit your understanding of the concepts— I’m not looking for art here, kids, just understanding. Each of you will email your favorite six to this email once we return, then we’ll discuss them next class.”

  


Mr. Q claps, setting down the dry erase marker he used to write his school email on the board.

  


“Stay on campus. Obviously. I shouldn’t have to say that, but I will. And don’t go farther than the gym, okay? Thirty minutes, be back here. Alright. Go create!”

  


Chairs scrape the ground as everyone rises from their seats. Rey wilts, takes a deep breath, then makes her way to the front.

  


“Hi, Mr. Q?”

  


“Yes, Miss…?”

  


“Niima. Rey Niima.”

  


This could be worse. Mr. Q is known for being chill among students, apparently— tough and serious, but also friendly and sympathetic. She supposes it’s time to test that out.

  


“How can I help you, Miss Niima?” he smiles kindly. He kind of looks like a hippy to Rey— a well-groomed hippy with the disposition of an esteemed professor.

  


“Well, so, I’ll have a cell phone— I _have_ a cell phone,” Rey starts quickly, to assure him she won’t be a problem forever, “but I’m currently in-between because my fost— my mom is figuring out a better family plan and— and— basically, I don’t have a phone right now. I can do something else to show my understanding, though. I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

  


His voice goes into soft-teacher-mode, the one she knows so well from teachers over the years realizing she was 'disadvantaged.' “I understand, Rey. Thank you for telling me. You know, if technology is an issue for you, you could tell me that, as well, right? There are ways we could work around that.”

  


Rey goes red. “Uh— yeah. Yes. Thank you, but I really am just in a weird spot with my phone. I should have it by tomorrow or the day after, I swear. It’s just bad timing.”

  


Mr. Q nods like he believes her, but mostly to quell her anxiety, she thinks. “Not to worry. I’ll just have you shadow another student today, then. Don’t worry about emailing me your own work, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to showcase more of your actual work in class this year.”

  


His eyes flit around the classroom.

  


“Are you sure?”

  


“Oh, yes— between you and me, this activity is more an icebreaker for the class than an actual assignment. Here.” Mr. Q steps to the side and raises a hand towards the back of the room. “Ben, could you come here a moment?”

  


Rey’s stomach drops. _Oh fuck._ “Oh actually, Mr. Q, I don’t know if that’s a good idea—”

  


“Nonsense, Ben will be happy to help. He is a great photographer and a fine young man— don’t tell him I said that, though, it’ll go to his head and I’d never hear the end of it from his mother,” he chuckles.

  


Rey doesn’t get a chance to unpack this or ask for clarification because that’s when she feels Ben’s presence loom just behind her shoulder.

  


“Yes, Mr. Q?”

  


His voice is agonizingly flat. It makes her angry all over again that she’s not allowed into anything _good_ from him anymore— not allowed his laughter anymore, not allowed his attention anymore, not allowed anything but apparent disdain. For whatever reason, all those things have been ripped away and she has been made to feel it’s her fault.

  


He’s so close that Rey could probably turn on her heel and punch in the face before he even realized what was happening, if she really wanted. If she were the slightest bit more unhinged, maybe she would.

  


“I told Miss Rey here that she could shadow you for this exercise, do you think you could do that?”

  


Rey half expects Ben to spit on the ground and refuse.

  


“Yeah, no problem,” he says with a detached casualness.

  


Somehow that hits worse.

  


“Great. I’ll see you two back here in… twenty-five minutes!” He looks to the remainder of the class. “And all of you! What are you still doing here? Go take pictures someplace more original! Go, get out of here!”

  


Rey slowly turns around, not meeting Ben’s eye. “Okay then.”

  


“Alright,” he agrees quietly.

  


The two walk wordlessly out into the massive hallway of lockers alongside everyone else. The fluorescent lights above buzz at an off-putting pitch and cast an ugly glow across everything in sight. The class disperses and noise echoes everywhere— footsteps, words, iPhone shutters. Rey thinks to herself that this could be the start of a goddamn horror movie.

  


Ben clears his throat and points. “I’m going to use the steps out there as my leading lines.”

  


“Okay.” This is insane. Are they really going to pretend that nothing is wrong here?

  


Once outside, Ben calmly kneels down and takes a few photos of the front steps from a steep angle.

  


“Ben…” Rey starts with a stupid shake to her voice. She gets a sick feeling when she realizes that his name no longer feels right in her mouth— like she’s _taking_ it and he’ll be upset with her for presuming to use it.

  


“Yeah?” His voice is soft and deep but not at all warm _._

  


“I’m confused.” She states lamely, and can’t seem to go on. He’s making this harder than it already is. Why won’t he look at her?

  


Ben stays concentrated on framing his photo. “I’m using the railings and steps to make lines across the frame.”

  


“No. You know what I’m talking about.”

  


Silence.

  


“Will you just talk to me? I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  


More silence.

  


“Ben.”

  


“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally says.

  


It doesn’t seem right for such dismissive words to come from the mouth of the boy who held her hand in the fun house, the one who kept her warm on the ferris wheel, the one she laughed with until she couldn’t breathe.

  


“How about telling me why you lied about not knowing me in group?”

  


Ben stands, looking around for his next location and taking his sweet time to respond. “Thought it was best.”

  


“ _Why_?” Rey seethes.

  


“You really don’t know how to take a hint, do you?” He turns and finally meets her gaze head-on. His eyes are flat and brutal.

  


Rey’s mouth goes dry. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  


“Take a fucking guess.”

  


Rey’s shock turns to fury. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of idiot for not correctly interpreting your _mood swings_. Use your big boy words, Ben, I can’t read your mind.”

  


“Alright.” He pulls himself to his full height. Rey tries her best not to feel small as she’s forced to look straight up at him. “Here it is— I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to listen to you. I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to _know_ you. That’s why. Clear enough?”

  


Only adrenaline keeps Rey upright, straight-faced, and unyielding. “No. Not good enough.”

  


He goes very still. “Don’t push me, Rey.”

  


Rey swallows. This Ben has a disturbing undercurrent of volatility in his cold coffee eyes. As much as she wants to be tough and brave and righteously indignant… it scares her. She hates that he scares her.

  


“Fine. I’ll ‘take a guess,’ then,” she clips. “Maybe sure, you had fun that night, but at the end of it all you probably got _bored_ or _embarrassed_ and so you left, assuming you’d never have to deal with the consequences. But here I am.And now you can’t get rid of me, which is probably hard for you because you seem like the kind of—”

  


“Yup, you got me.” He starts walking away.

  


She digs in, not letting him get far. A twisted part of her really wants to hurt him and is frustrated that she can’t. “Or am I a reminder of your soft side? Is that it? Tough guy Ben doesn’t want to face his real self? Doesn’t want a stupid _girl_ to learn all his feelings and secrets?”

  


“Don’t act like you know _anything_ about me.”

  


“We’re in _therapy_ together, Ben,” she yells incredulously, half-laughing. “If I don’t now, I will eventually! Are you just going to hide from me like a coward until then?”

  


“You are a _real_ fucking piece of work,” he rasps, “aren’t you, sunshine?”

  


Rey bites down a frustrated scream and yanks his arm to stop him to face her. “And _you’re_ cruel for no bloody reason!”

  


No response, just an unwavering gaze from Ben. It almost looks like he wants to respond, but he doesn’t. Rey’s anger bubbles up as she’s forced to stare into his collectedness. It’s not fair that he isn’t affected, that only _she_ is hurting. No, this won’t do.

  


“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” she says slowly. “You actually think it’s _okay_ to treat people like this. It makes sense. You clearly solve all your problems with brutality or violence or cruelty. You’re just a fucking _animal,_ is what you are.”

  


He just leans closer. “Yes I am.”

  


The words from his mouth ring acidic but true.

  


It gives her a strange chill.

  


Ben tugs free of her grip and stalks towards a flower bed, lining up another shot with laser focus. She watches, speechless, as he takes the next couple shots in places along the small garden.

  


None of this is going the way she thought.

  


—————————————————————————

  


“Do you know a Ben Solo?” Rey asks Finn that night at home.

  


“Mm, name sounds familiar,” he replies distractedly. “He’s a senior, right?” He’s on his phone, probably texting Rose or Poe or another one of his million friends from school. She doesn’t know how he keeps so many of them.

  


“Yeah, he is. So… you don’t know him?”

  


He looks up from his curled position on the couch, his attention grabbed by something in her voice. “No, I don’t. Why?”

  


Rey pretends to read her U.S. History book so she doesn’t have to make eye contact.

  


“No reason.” From her peripheral vision she sees Finn raise his eyebrows and adds, “My teacher just said something about him in photo class today and I was curious, that’s all.”

  


“Oh, Mr. Q?”

  


Rey smiles. “Yeah, you know him? Did you have him last year?”

  


“No— Poe did, though. Said he was really good. He’s the one with the great hair, isn’t he?”

  


Rey laughs. “Yeah, gorgeous.”

  


“What do you think of him, by the way?”

  


“He seems nice, I guess. He was sure nice to me today, even though he put me with… uh, he was nice about my phone, I mean. Understanding.”

  


“No, peanut, _Poe_. What do you think of Poe?”

  


“Oh.” Rey relaxes back into the couch and shrugs. “Yeah, he’s nice too.” Finn’s curious stare makes her feel defensive enough to scowl. “ _What?_ ”

  


“Do you think he’s cute?”

  


Rey blushes despite there being absolutely no reason to. “ _Cute?_ Wha— Poe?Why are you asking?”

  


“A simple yes or no will suffice.”

  


Rey scoffs and throws a pencil at his arm, but she secretly thinks about it.

  


Poe sat across from her at lunch today amongst all of Finn’s other friends. He could’ve sat anywhere else, she realizes; they were sitting within a rather large group, but he sat with her. He’d been really nice and easy to talk to and asked about her classes and the clubs she might want to join— he even filled her in about the robotics club, about which Rey asked a million questions and which Poe answered all with enthusiasm. Her general impression was that he is a bit grandiose and talkative, but also incredibly sincere and kind. And attractive… there’s that, too.

  


Rey sighs. “Anyone would say that he’s attractive. It’s basically an objective truth.”

  


“But you included? You think so, too?”

  


“Finn, please tell me why you’re asking me this.”

  


“I’m just looking out for you.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  


“I don’t need you to look out for me.”

  


“I know, peanut, but I’m going to do it anyway because that’s what big brothers do.”

  


She rolls her eyes. Finn _is_ her brother, but they technically met three years ago and he’s only a whopping five months older than her.

  


“So.… if Poe asked you out, do you think you’d say yes?”

  


She closes her eyes and sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe… Well, no. Not right now, at least. Everything here is still very… new. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

  


Deep brown eyes and dark beauty marks on pale skin appear unbidden against the black of her eyelids. Her eyes fly open, bleaching the image away with light.

  


Finn gives her a sad, understanding little smile, then retreats back into his phone with finality. “Good to know. Thanks.”

  


“Hey! Wait, you’re not going to tell him I said that, are you?” Rey demands, but Finn keeps typing. “Finn? _Are you?_ ”

  


He drops his phone into his lap and looks annoyed. “Would you rather I let him do it and you have to shut him down?”

  


“Wait… he was actually going to do it?”

  


“He was thinking about it.”

  


This stuns Rey into confused silence.

  


“Don’t worry, he won’t. He’ll understand.” He sees the horrified look on her face. “Oh my god, Rey, he’s a good guy! I thought you guys would get along, that’s why I was trying to help _both_ of you out— you’re welcome, by the way. But I get it, and so will he. Just forget about it. For now, at least.”

  


How is she supposed to forget about that? He’s in her friend group, now. He’s a senior and not in any of her classes, but she’ll still see him every day. Her only friends so far are all the same as his.

  


Rey has never had boy issues before, and now she has two.

  


—————————————————————————

  


“How many cities have you lived in?” Poe asks curiously from his seat beside her at lunch. He pops a baby carrot into his mouth with a handsomely goofy grin.

  


Rey was worried that Poe would be weird and standoffish after what Finn must’ve relayed to him, but he’s not at all. If anything, he only seems more eager to know her better.

  


“Chandrila is technically only my second city. I’ve lived a lot of different places before this but they were all in Jakku,” she tells him.

  


“Poe, come on,” Rose pleads from across the table.

  


“What?” he gestures defensively.

  


“You don’t have to talk to him about that stuff if you don’t want to,” she apologizes to Rey.

  


Rey smiles at her— at Rose, who she loves. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  


Once upon a time she might be annoyed at Rose for assuming she needed rescuing, but now she’s only grateful to know that she is cared for that much.

  


“I like it here much better,” she turns and tells Poe honestly. He smiles again, wider.

  


His teeth are perfectly straight, she notices. It sends a strange wave of sadness over her for some reason.

  


“I’m glad,” Poe says. “There’s a lot of great stuff here— Finn and Rose have probably already shown you around a lot, right?”

  


Rey is distracted as people around them start to rise and collect their things. A glance at the wall clock tells her the bell is about to ring.

  


Before she can ready herself to reach down and grab her backpack, Poe has already swooped it up and thrown it over his shoulder. She blinks at him, unsure of whether to be put off by his presumptuousness. She’s honestly a little miffed that he would just do that without asking.

  


“You’re going to Mr. Q’s class, right?”

  


Rey nods, deciding to just let it go.

  


“I love that guy. I’ll walk with you— I want to say hi,” Poe declares, and stalks confidently from the cafeteria.

  


Rey follows, unable to contain her grin. Poe Dameron is a funny guy— a handsome, funny guy who seems to like her. Even if she’s not sure about what she’ll eventually do about it, why shouldn’t she enjoy the show while she can?

  


He chatters animatedly to her about the city and all its hang outs as they walk. Rey notices people throwing them looks as they pass. Mostly girls, she realizes with interest, but definitely some guys, too.

  


Poe does say hi to Mr. Q like he said he was going to, but not before gently placing Rey’s backpack at the foot of her desk for her and giving her a comically enthusiastic thumbs-up. She can’t help but to think that Finn must have told him about her touch-thing. It would’ve been more natural for Poe to give a friendly slap on the arm or nudge on the shoulder as he left, but he didn’t.

  


Mr. Q looks affectionately exhausted by his and Poe’s short conversation, eventually shooing him away a minute before the bell is scheduled to ring. Poe jogs back up the aisle between tables, waving to Paige and quickly fist-bumping a guy that Rey doesn’t know before giving her what is surely meant to be an award-winning, heart-melting smile, then jogs backwards out of the room.

  


Rey bites her lip and stares down at her hands in her lap— it’s cute, but it doesn’t quite melt her. _He_ doesn’t quite melt her, but she still likes watching his effort— maybe even likes him. Maybe she just sees through it. She can’t figure out how she feels or how she _ought_ to, and while it is exciting, it’s even more confusing. She decides to take another look back and watch him leave.

  


Just before he reaches the door, Poe’s jovial expression falters and falls as he stops dead at the sight of something. His cool-guy smile is replaced by a hard mouth, then by a dark sarcastic smirk and a biting bow of the head. When he lifts his face again, Rey is surprised at how serious and downright hateful he looks. _If looks could kill,_ she muses. He turns back quickly, though, and disappears.

  


Rey follows his line of sight into the corner of the room and— of course.

  


Ben Solo.

  


Ben is sitting there, _murder_ on his face. His eyes burn holes into the door that Poe just left through. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

  


The bell rings. Ben doesn’t look away from the door and Rey can’t look away from him.

  


“Welcome back, young photographers! I hope your second day of classes has been going as well or even better than the first. If you haven’t emailed me your exercise from last class yet for whatever reason, I suggest you do it now.”

  


Unexpectedly, Ben faces forward in one quick turn.

  


His eyes go straight to Rey, who is still staring. There’s a strange sense of suspended reality as they look at each other. It’s only for a moment, but Rey’s insides feel like they’ve been launched into zero gravity.

  


Neither of the two project anger or surprise or anything like that. She keeps expecting him to scowl or smile wryly in mockery, but he doesn’t. His eyes are clear and open and almost sad, like they’ve given up on anger. Like they’ve given up on everything.

  


The girl sitting next to Rey nudges her with a stack of papers, forcing her to tear her gaze away. Rey takes one and passes it to the row behind her. When she looks back, Ben’s head is down again, reading whatever it is he seems always bring with him.

  


_Is he okay?_

  


Rey not-so-kindly reminds herself that taking care of the asshole who happily abandoned her and ‘doesn’t want to know her’ is not her responsibility. Still, something about his posture imparts the distress he holds directly _into_ her. She can _read_ its weight and practically feel it for herself.

  


It’s not something that’s easy to ignore.

  


She tries to forget about it as Mr. Q launches into a lecture about the basics of aperture, but she can’t. She needs to know what his deal is. She wants to know what he carries. She’ll hate him still, but she has to know.

  


And now she has someone she can ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2: welcome to the real beginning friends 😈
> 
> this chapter's vibe: "My Enemy" by CHVRCHES


	3. please, hurry, leave me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben gets what he wanted.

Ben is having one of those days in which he can’t decide whether it would feel better to diffuse or to explode.

_Neither,_ he decides. _But still either would better than this, better than doing nothing at all._

Ben thinks of doing neither like being held halfway underwater by the throat with your nose and mouth _just_ at water level— you survive, but every other breath is a lung full of water and never enough air. At a certain point, death by drowning becomes preferable to half-drowning indefinitely.

He pulls up alongside the curb in front of his house, brakes, parks, and slams his car door as hard as he can. It may be petulant, but the loud noise is satisfying to the gnawing for something, anythingextreme.

Ben knows that the idea is not to do what _feels_ best to him, but rather what _is_ best for him. That’s the key. That’s the key he can’t fucking hold onto. It slips away from him again and again.

Once inside, he throws his backpack on the ground by the door and heads straight for the shower. No one’s home— no one’s _ever_ home— so he shuffles his most recently made playlist and plays it as loud as his little wireless speaker will allow.

_Well, it seems so real_

_I can see it_

_And it seems so real_

_I can feel it_

_And it seems so real_

_I can taste it_

_And it seems so real_

_I can hear it_

_So why can't I touch it?_

_So why can't I touch it?_

He created this situation, Ben acknowledges as he gets under the painfully cold spray. He can admit that. Admitting it solves nothing, though— and he’s not sure a solution even exists. He shivers violently, standing there like an idiot in the too-small tub allowing himself to be pelted by the freezing water.

She hates him. Rey Niima hates his guts— but only because he made damn sure of it. Imagining the look on her face during yesterday’s photo exercise twists those guts in several different directions.

It wasn’t all an act, he reminds himself. It was necessary.

He _doesn’t_ want to talk to her.

_She’ll figure out what I really am._

He _doesn’t_ want to listen to her.

S _he’ll learn to expect too much from me._

He _doesn’t_ want to look at her.

_It’ll hurt too much._

Saying he didn’t want to know her, however, might be the only thing he said that he can’t twist into any version of truth.

He does want to know her. Ben wants to know every damn thing there is to know about her. He has a million questions eating away at him any given time depending on what he’s remembering of her at that particular moment.

If only he wasn’t _him,_ if only she wasn’t in his _group…_ It doesn’t matter now. He’s done the damage. The only thing to do now is commit to it and follow through.

Still, all he can see when he closes his eyes is the hurt on Rey’s delicate, freckled face in the nanosecond before the fury. Her hazel eyes had lookedbetrayed. _He_ hadcaused that.

Sharp, spastic vibrations come from the porcelain sink where his phone sits. Ben sighs and turns the shower temperature up as hot as it will go. Not for the first time recently, it crosses Ben’s mind that he might actually hate his own best friends. He grits his teeth and bears the scalding water. It burns and burn and burns until it simply doesn’t anymore.

The guys have finally started feeling comfortable enough to start teasing him about the therapy— that’s probably what the texts are about. He might have to change that comfort level soon if they don’t knock it the fuck off.

The only reason he allowed them to know about it in the first place was out of necessity— he figured it’d be impossible to hide where he was going after school for hours each week, and each week for months. He played it straight. None of them actually know shit about what the program really is or what it’s like or anything, so he just sort of let them believe that he was simply so _‘crazy’_ that his parents forced him into it to try and control him. (Not that the truth is far from that— just more complicated.)

It’s strange what bullshit teenage boys are willing to accept as strength if you can make it seem cool or hardcore enough. Even something as decidedly uncool as therapy, if you talk about it the right way, can command a certain level of respect— or at least fear.

Dr. Holdo’s intensive outpatient program is not a tough or cool thing at all, unfortunately. It’s grueling and difficult and often infantilizing. Ben hates it and still somehow has come to depend on it. He had even started to let himself buy into it, to relax, to some days even look forward to it— until Saturday. Until he walked in and saw Rey sitting there, staring at him with those wide, worried eyes.

His cell phone keeps buzzing against the sink, no doubt from the group chat going off.

Ben lied to his friends about getting detention to excuse himself from hanging out with them like all they normally do after school. He just wanted an hour to himself to think about what the hell he’s doing. One measly, quiet, undisturbed hour. Is that so much to ask?

The first thing Ben does once he’s out of the shower is silence the chat. With a quick glance, he confirms he was right about the therapy-teasing, but they’ve moved on since to unrelated subjects. Good.

One message from Kuruk mentions Poe Dameron in reference to someone else involved in some other bullshit. Ben puts the phone down after that.

While Ben skipped out on his friends because he wanted time to think, he also did it because he knew that seeing them would inevitably lead to him blowing up to them about Poe.

He wouldn’t be able to help himself— Poe is one of the subjects that no one else in the world understands like they do. He knew they would _get_ it, that they would _understand_ and validate his anger. They would’ve had his back if he had only said the word. It was tempting to head straight for them when the last bell rang… but he knew that it would be like lighting the fuse of a bomb. Maybe a long or delayed fuse, but an unstoppable force destined to blow all the same.

_And you hold the lighter,_ _Ben,_ Dr. Holdo would say. _Only you hold the lighter to your own bomb._

The shower was supposed to extinguish the shaky sparks that have been racking him since photo class, but Ben’s not sure if it’s working. The next song in his playlist begins in a flurry of hard guitar and nostalgic melody.

_I was so tired of being upset_

_Always wanting something I never could get_

_Life's an illusion, love is a dream_

_But I don't know what it is_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

Ben stares blankly into the foggy mirror, only the mere suggestion of his shape and coloring visible through the condensation. What he’s really seeing, however, is Poe smiling at Rey in class and Rey smiling back, pink color high in her cheeks.

_He walked her to class,_ he had realized numbly, sitting there awkwardly in one of those tiny plastic school chairs. There’s no other way to sit when the things are made for someone half his size. _He drove her home from the fair and now he’s walking her to her classes._

Ben had caught his eye as he was leaving— on sight, Poe’s disgustingly happy little charade fell away and was replaced with a shit-eating grin and a sarcastic curtsy.

_The little fucker is trying to get a rise out of me,_ Ben realized. It was working. He could’ve stood up right then and followed him outside, and— no. No, he couldn’t. Because then, for half a second, Ben’s insides froze in terror as it occurred to him that Rey could’ve told him. Rey could’ve told Poe about their therapy group and his place in it. She could’ve fucking _told him_.

_She wouldn’t,_ he’d thought quickly, watching Poe turn and go. _Would she?_

Poe’s antagonizing demeanor didn’t seem to have changed in quality or intensity since they last saw each other. He figured if Poe had that extra ammunition, he’d know about it straight away. Poe doesn’t possess the kind of self-control it takes to hold back on something like that. So no. Ben doesn’t think she did.

That’s when an inescapable, heavy feeling settled around Ben’s shoulders like a lead quilt and he realized, in perfect clarity, that in trying to control the Rey situation, he had only created a new one that still took away his control in the end. There was nothing left to do, he reasoned— nothing other than to hurt anyone who dared to threaten him with the vulnerable information, as much as he needed to.

Poe was long gone by the time Mr. Q started lecturing, the sound of which barely caught Ben’s attention. He made himself snap out of it.

Ben turned, automatically finding Rey’s place in the room. He’s noticed recently that his eyes seem to do this now whenever not given any other specific instructions by his brain. If she’s around and can’t see him looking, she becomes his attention’s default resting place.

Except this time she was already looking right back.

She didn’t look angry. Ben couldn’t find it in himself to expend the energy it took to look angry, either. He was so tired that he couldn’t even feel surprise. For the first time in a week, he just wanted to look at her without pretending.

Rey already felt so unfairly magnetic to Ben but, in those short seconds, she seemed to slip across a line into something else. It was something he felt more than he could describe with words. Without his permission, she became the center of everything— like a star at the center of its very own system, with its very own light, its own gravitational pull. He remembers feeling impossibly far away and yet hopelessly bound, stuck at the fringes of her orbit.

Half of her hair was tied-back as usual, revealing an unusually gentle facial expression, bright hazel eyes, and a hilariously expressive pink mouth. He kept expecting her to scowl or turn around, but she wouldn’t. As the long seconds stretched on and Rey confusingly still didn’t show any outward signs of contempt, Ben began to sink further and further into himself.

He tried to hate her, but he couldn’t. He tried to blame her for liking Poe Dameron, but he couldn’t. He could only acknowledge that she was… _good_. He'd been relieved when she was finally distracted by something and he could look away. His mind kept spinning off in space.

Ben wipes the mirror now with a squeaky hand and sees something like a sad, wet, shaggy dog looking back at him. He dries his hair roughly with a towel, combs it, and throws on some clothes.

He can’t scrub the bad feelings from his body with soap or comb out his tangled thoughts, but he figures it’s better to try than to give up completely. That’s one thing he’s gotten at least a little better at since his mom strong-armed him into Dr. Holdo’s program— trying, resisting impulses, all that of that stuff.

In fact, Ben had planned on staying home, staying calm, and looking over his group binder. Revisiting all the techniques from cognitive and dialectical behavioral therapy that have worked for him before— going through his ‘toolbox,’ as Dr. Holdo would call it— would undoubtedly be the most mature, most reasonable thing to do.

One look at the thing, though, and Ben decides on the spot that he just can’t do it. He has too much energy to sit and read anything right now and he doesn’t even want to try.

So, in a burst of decisiveness, Ben resolves to use the good old distraction technique instead. He’s too wound up. _All those little words are ultimately useless, anyway,_ he determines. It makes him feel better about ditching what he knows is the most responsible option.

He’ll go to Dr. Holdo’s office, instead— she's usually there early before group.

He stops to get coffee first. Hopefully it’ll sweeten her up. She values her quiet time before group, and has gotten a little annoyed with him in the past for interrupting her— even though she'd deny it. 

He orders the doctor a vanilla almond milk latte and himself a massive iced coffee. It’s a horrible idea and he knows it, but he does it anyway. Ben’s sure there’s a term for this behavior and that the term is not ‘responsible.’

“I like your shirt,” says the barista counting his cash.

“Yeah?” He looks down, not even sure what he put on earlier. “You listen to The Clash?”

She’s pretty, Ben notices when he looks up again. Her hair is dyed an inky black and, while he knows very little about makeup, he can still tell on sight that she’s wicked good at it. Her face looks like a painting, but in a good way, and is accented by subtle silver septum ring.

‘Val,’ as her name tag reads, shrugs and smiles. “Sometimes.”

The brevity and playfulness of her response makes Ben wonder if she’s flirting with him. It makes him stop.

_“I like your shirt,” he’d said._

_She looked down. “You listen to The Buzzcocks?”_

_He grinned, hearing her accent. “Yeah, sometimes. Wait, are you British?”_

_“Kind of. Are you American?” she scowled._

_“I’m Ben,” he said, holding back laughter. He needed to know this girl._

_“Rey.”_

The girl’s piercing blue eyes follow him expectantly. _She’s shorter than Rey,_ he notices for some reason. Everything about her is full of striking contrast and stunningly bold lines. She’s beautiful, there is no denying. Rey’s coloring, though, is softer, warmer, more blended. Her lines are graceful— soft and athletic and elegant all at once. Warmth, freckles, golden hair around her face where the sun has lightened it the most…. remembering makes him feel sad. Remembering makes himfeelcold _._

He clears his throat. “Yeah. They’re one of the greats.”

“Mm,” Val agrees. “Your change is one dollar and twenty-five cents.” She hands it over, and Ben puts it into the tip jar. She smiles and looks him over, giving a little pause. “Have a good day. And… come back soon, Ben.”

Ben’s pulse jumps a bit until he realizes he gave his name for the drinks— that’s how she knows it. He laughs under his breath at himself, then smiles politely in return. “Thanks. You too.” He walks to the other counter to wait.

_What the hell is wrong with him?_ She would’ve easily given her his number had he asked for it. She’s gorgeous and friendly and likes The Clash.

It’s not completely unheard of for girls to act like this around him. Girls at school stay away from him for the most part, though, but only because everyone there knows enough and is scared enough to leave him alone.

In public, however, he gets some attention. Girls who know nothing about him see a tall, dark-haired, brooding guy and none of the damage underneath. They might be drawn to his intensity, but none seem to actually like it once they get close enough. It’s too scary, too real. It becomes less hot and more entirely fucking _terrifying_. He’s aware of this.

The term _‘animal’_ comes to mind.

Val, however, looks like she could be intense, too. She looks like someone he would theoretically get along with. _And she’s hot!_ he shouts at himself in frustration as he watches her take another order. He could still ask for her number now, if he wanted… but he won’t.

He knows he won’t.

Again, he feels an out-of-place chill standing in the center of the crowded coffee shop in late summer.

Dr. Holdo opens the door on his second round of knocks.

“Ben.” She sees the latte in his hand and puts a hand on her hip. “This could be considered unethical, you know.”

Ben waits patiently for her to give her little speech about boundaries, the one she never actually enforces or abides by.

“…Is it almond milk?” she asks instead.

“Yep.”

She grabs it and sighs. “Come in.”

Her purple hair is in an intricate updo today. Ben wonders where she gets the time or energy to be so perfect and fancy all the time. She must have magic powers or a team of stylists. His mother is the same way, but her magic power is just fast-weaving fingers and waking up way earlier than necessary. Women are wild like that.

She gestures for him to sit.

“Can I switch my individual session to today instead of Thursday?” he cuts right to the chase.

Her face softens. “I’m afraid not, Ben. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” He’s aware he sounds a little desperate, but Dr. Holdo is one of the only people he’ll let hear it and it’s not exactly containable at the moment.

“I have to lead group today, that’s why not. Liz called in sick.”

“So no art therapy, then?”

Dr. Holdo looks offended. She is famously unartistic. “No, _I’m_ going to lead art group today. I’m pushing back my Tuesday individuals to do it.”

Ben slumps in his chair with a pathetic groan and covers his face, both knees bouncing up and down with maniacal energy. There’s silence in the room. His head spins in every direction, seeking a way to release the metaphorical bile building in his gut and threatening to spill over on its own. Caffeine was a bad idea. Any doctor could’ve told him that and he did it anyway.

“Ben,” Dr. Holdo’s voice urges gently. She knows she wants him to look up at her but he won’t. “Ben, for legal and insurance issues as well as to maintain boundaries, I can’t get into whatever this is right now. But I have to ask, do you feel that you’re a—”

“No,” he snaps. _No, I am not a danger to myself or others. No, you are not legally obligated to keep talking to me and/or call the police. No, please do not fucking go there._ “No, I’m not.”

“You know I had to ask,” she chides mildly.

“I know,” he grumbles. “Sorry.”

“Here what we’ll do,” she claps. “Art therapy is cancelled. I suck at that anyway. Never was my specialty, that’s why I hired Liz. We’ll do a good old-fashioned round table instead. I bet your peers will be able to help you out more than you expect. And I’ll be there, as well, of course. It's the next best thing. What do you think?”

Ben shakes his head, realizing there is no good option here. He had a hard enough time talking to the group about topical recovery issues, and that was before Rey. There’s no way he’ll be able to talk through anything he actually needs to talk about in front of any of them, especially now that she's in the mix.

“You’re shaking your head. Does that mean no?” Dr. Holdo asks.

“No. I mean yes— I mean, it’s fine. Yeah. That works. Thanks.”

The head doctor sighs, reading Ben like a book. “Give them a chance. We’re all here to become better versions of ourselves. They might surprise you.”

“Okay.”

Ben feels strangely light and calm all of a sudden. This happens to him sometimes when ‘the bad’ has seemingly reached ‘the worst’ and there’s simply nothing left to be done. The only thing to do is to float around in the void and wait to see what happens. He could skip group, but he won’t. No matter what he does now, he is trapped with the bile all the same. At least maybe now there’s a chance it’ll be drawn from him, even if painfully and at great expense.

Vaguely Ben registers that it’s these ‘light’ times in which he has done some of his worst damage. There’s something about feeling untouchable, like nothing worse could possibly happen, that makes Ben suddenly free from care— including free from care of consequence.

Dr. Holdo gives him a look, but can’t seem to decode him. “Go wait with everyone else, I’ll be out soon.”

Ben does as he’s asked.

It’s less than a minute before the official start of group when she walks in. She’s the last one of them to enter this time.

She looks exactly the same as she did earlier today at school, scuffed-up brown backpack and all. She has a scab on her shin that he didn’t notice before; he idly wonders what happened there as he watches her take her seat directly across the table from him. She glances appreciatively out the window beside her— she likes to be where she can see outside, he’s noticed. It’s sweet.

When she settles and lifts her head, she looks more than a little surprised to find him already watching her. Predictably, she scowls. It’s funny enough to Ben to make him snort with a smile, which only wrenches a confused twist into the expression.

“Welcome everyone! I know Tuesdays are generally our designated art group days, but we’ll be switching it up a bit today and doing a classic round table instead.”

“Wait, why?” Kay asks from Ben’s left. She’s always loved the art groups the most.

“Because Liz is out sick today and I am not confident in my ability to give you an up-to-par experience,” Dr. Holdo tells her primly. “I’m sorry to any of you who are disappointed, I’ll find a way to make the absence up to you.”

Their doctor is technically lying to everyone for him.It’s a strange notion— doctors aren’t supposed to play favorites like this, but Dr. Holdo kind of is, isn’t she? Ben, way up in his light place, smirks at no one in particular.

“Sorry, but what’s a round table?” Rey asks.

“It’s a process group,” Beau answers glumly before the doctor can. “She just doesn’t like to call it that.”

Dr. Holdo gives him a stern look.

“Oh,” Rey nods, understanding. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Al-r _ight_. Does anyone remember a guideline they want to share?”

Kay raises her hand and promptly gives the group all of them at once— one person goes at a time, no cross-talk, constructive feedback only, and only if it’s requested. No one has to share, but all are encouraged. The subject must have something to do with recovery or maintenance of general well-being blah blah blah. Ben taps his foot and wonders just how slow this group is going to go.

When Dr. Holdo asks if anyone has anything they’d like to start with, no one moves a muscle. Ben stares into space and feels the doctor throwing meaningful looks at him from the head of the table. _Sorry,_ he thinks without much actual remorse; there’s no way in hell he’s actually going.

“No one? I would think the start of school would present some interesting challenges.”

“I’ll go,” Rey says after some silence.

Ben wasn’t expecting that.

“Rey! Excellent. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”

Rey puts her hands on top of the table and doesn’t look up at the rest of the group as she starts; she’s staring down instead, rubbing at one of her palms. It’s something Ben has seen her do before. He doesn’t know what it’s about, but he feels like it’s about something.

There’s a quiet, uncomfortable anticipatory feeling curling up inside Ben. Is it anxiety? Or does he just care about what she has to say?

“So, I have a hard time making friends. I used to move around a lot. I got officially adopted this summer, though, so I’m staying here for good. I just… kind of got used to only looking out for myself, you know? I got used to people always leaving or eventually being left. I’ve been struggling with letting people… trusting that… that…” She seems to lose the words, but picks right up somewhere else. “But I’m doing better. I already have some good friends at school who I really like.”

She looks at Dr. Holdo, who nods encouragingly. “That’s wonderful, Rey. How were you able to overcome those resistant feelings?”

“I haven’t entirely. But I think part of it has been sort of… risking it. At a certain point, I realized I have the option to stay hidden or to risk it— to risk the possibility of it going horribly, of someone being totally shi— sorry. I mean, of someone totally… disappointing me.”

Ben tenses.

“But I’ve been risking it more often,” she continues, “because the other side of that risk— the reward— is becoming more and more worth it to me every day. I think it's been paying off. I’m actually pretty happy, for the most part. Maybe happier than I’ve ever been.”

A quick glance around the table shows Ben that everyone is enraptured by her insight, hanging on every word. Kay looks like she might cry.

“That is a wonderful perspective, Rey,” Dr. Holdo says. “I think taking a look at our anxieties and what they’re holding us back from is great way to reconsider what we want, and whether we want it want badly enough to change our ways, even if it risks discomfort.”

“Exactly. And thanks. It’s just… it hasn’t worked out completely.”

“How do you mean?” Dr. Holdo encourages, nodding for her to go on.

“I made a friend. I mean, I’ve made a good amount of friends, but this one was different. Most of my new ones I made through my brother, Finn, just by being brought into his circles and everything, but… but this one I made all by myself. It felt special. We got along really well, really fast. I told them stuff about me that I don’t usually tell people.”

_She’s not…_

Ben sinks into his chair a couple of inches, trying to shrink without drawing attention to himself.

… _Is she?_

“Then they did a complete hundred-and-eighty degree turn and told me they didn’t want to _know_ me anymore, just a couple of days later. They’re telling people that we don’t know each other when we do. The worst part is they won’t even tell me why.”

Her eyes flash at him for the briefest moment. It _burns_.

“I asked, and they wouldn’t tell me,” she goes on, a dark pink color filling her cheeks. Ben can’t tell if it’s from anger or embarrassment or something else. “Now I feel like I’m being hated by a mortal enemy or something. That’s it, I guess. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.”

Ben doesn’t move. No, he _can’t_ move. He sits in his chair, completely frozen, clinging tightly to the shock of it all so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge the shame.

Dr. Holdo nods sympathetically. “That sounds very difficult, Rey. Especially at the beginning of your new life here. Are you open to feedback on this?”

_Oh god, please no—_

“Yes, please. I would love some.” She glances at him again, eyes hard and challenging. 

“What do we think, group? Does anyone have any constructive feedback for Rey? Ideas, validations, tools we think might help her with her challenge?”

Ben wishes he’d skipped group.

He wishes he’d stayed at the coffee shop and talked to the pretty goth barista.

He wishes he’d gone straight to his friends after school with lighter and fuse in hand.

He wishes he’d let go of all restraint and followed Poe Dameron out of that classroom.

He would’ve been put in detention, sure— maybe even jail, if he tried hard enough— but at least he wouldn’t be here.

Beau, Kay, and Tallie all raise their hands to give feedback. Rey nods at Beau first.

“First of all, welcome. I didn’t realize you were like, _new_ new here,” Beau smiles.

_This little blonde shit better watch himself,_ Ben sings to himself, fingernails digging into his own palm in a fist under the table.

“And second, it sounds like whatever this person’s reason is might not have anything to do with you. It seems an extreme reaction to be one that _you_ caused, you know? I guess I mean that I hope you don’t feel responsible.”

_‘I GET IT, I’M A HORRIBLE PERSON!’_ Ben suddenly wants to scream at all of them. _‘I AGREE!’_

Ben has half a mind to leave right this instant, to just get up and go— but it would be too suspicious. Dr. Holdo would never let it go and would probably figure everything out in the process.

“That’s a good point, Beau,” Dr. Holdo agrees. “Often we assume the actions of others must reflect on our own character, but that is rarely the case. We must be mindful not to make assumptions, especially when they are harmful to us for no reason. Thank you. Rey, would you like to call on someone else?”

Rey nods at Hux, who is slouched forward on the table with his chin propped up by his fist.

“How often do you see this guy? Would it be unrealistic to just try to ignore him?”

“I didn’t say it was a guy.”

“Uh, yeah," he scoffs, lifting his eyebrows at the table. “You didn’t have to.”

Rey’s face goes pink.

“Armitage,” Dr. Holdo warns, “Please be respectful. But you bring up a good point— what is your current plan to handle this individual?”

Rey shrugs. “Survive it, I guess.”

That hurts.

“Does anyone have any ideas about strategy for how to— well actually, Rey, how often _do_ you see this person?”

“Six days a week.” There’s a collective commiserative murmur around the table.

Ben’s guilt starts burning to ash amidst the surging anger, like kindling to a fire. No one knows anything about what they’re really discussing— _who_ they’re really discussing. They know absolutely fucking nothing.

“Ideas?” Holdo prompts again.

“I agree with Armie. Ignore him,” Tallie offers.

“Can you even try to make nice, or is that not an option?” Kay interjects.

“It hasn’t worked so far,” Rey shrugs.

“See? Just cut him off, I guarantee you can find better friends,” Hux laughs.

Tallie nods. “If he’s really that much of an asshole, he’s not worth it. Often the cruelest people just can’t be reasoned with.”

Anger is better than guilt.

Ben has always known this. It burns brighter and hotter and heavier than anything, even shame. It gives Ben the strength to sit up straight and to look the most troubled youth of Chandrila in the eye as they trade opinions on _his_ character as though they’re any better.

“But maybe it _is_ worth it,” Kay frowns at Hux and Tallie.

Rey’s eyebrows pull in. “What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you really liked this person. Like, a lot. They’re being really mean, but maybe there’s a reason. Maybe there’s another side to the risk of not giving up, like you were talking about.”

Rey doesn’t seem to be able to respond, just looks to Dr. Holdo.

“Your compassion is admirable, Kaydel,” she says generously. “Rey, whether you choose to separate yourself from this individual or to continue trying to reach them, please remember that you are your own first priority. And remember to lean on the friends that you do have.”

Rey nods.

“Is there anything else you’d like add before we move on?”

“No,” Rey smiles a bit uncomfortably. “Thanks, everyone.”

Her eyes once again flicker to Ben. It’s less of an angry statement of defiance this time and more of a nervous check that he’s still there, still in one piece.

“Good.” Dr. Holdo looks straight at Ben, which startles him. “Would _anyone else_ like to speak about a challenge today?”

Ben looks around the table. Everyone else is doing the same, mouths closed tight.

“ _No one_?” Dr. Holdo repeats, still staring daggers straight at him. He slouches in his chair again and crosses his arms. _Nope._

“Fine,” she says, flipping open her massive folder of notes. “Let’s follow up on some of the issues we discussed last time… Ah. Ben. I have some notes from last week’s round table about your upcoming visit with your father. Would you like to follow up on that?”

“ _No_.”

“No? How about your anger— how is everything at school?”

“ _It’s fine_.”

The space between Dr. Holdo’s eyebrows crease— she senses something is wrong but has no idea that the source of the wrongness is sitting directly to her left. The reason for his behavior is literally three feet away, crossing her arms and watching him carefully this very moment.

The doctor closes the folder and shifts her attention, scattering the tension.

“Okay, I think we should all go around and check in. I’ll go first. I’m Dr. Holdo, today I’m at an eight, and I am feeling… relaxed and focused. Tallie, will you go next?”

“Tallie, seven, tired and bored.”

Rey re-crosses her arms, looking between Dr. Holdo and him.

“Armie, six, annoyed and hungry.”

Ben can’t do this. He can’t sit here and pretend— not today.

“I’m Kaydel—”

Ben bursts to his feet, sure that he will explode into a thousand little pieces if he doesn’t get the fuck out of here right now. “I have to go.”

He tears out of the room before anyone can say so much as ‘wait,’ and bee lines to his car.

None of the emotions got put in their proper places when he was created, Ben thinks miserably. Everything just got blown everywhere. Nothing correlates to anything the way it should. His whole internal psyche was scrambled from birth. Nothing else makes sense.

He drowns his thoughts with blaring radio on his way home. Once he’s there, he goes straight for his mom’s liquor cabinet. He grabs the only bottle left inside from the back corner.

It’s rum.

He laughs, but it doesn’t feel funny at all. He can still taste the flavor on Rey’s lips from that night if he concentrates.

He doesn’t want to concentrate. But he doesn’t want to drink anymore, either.

Instead, Ben locks the sense memory away by carefully placing the bottle back in the cabinet. If nothing else, he possesses the ability to hide this _one_ thing from himself, this one reminder. It’s in his hand in the here and now, and _he_ has the power to put it away and bring it back if he so chooses— unlike other things that are far away, in the past, utterly irretrievable.

His mom will know soon enough from Dr. Holdo that he bolted from group. He’ll just have to deal with that as it comes— she’s not scheduled to fly home for a good while though, so what does he really have to worry about other than a couple of concerned voicemails? And really, his only option other than to bolt was to start screaming at everyone in that room, humiliating himself in front of all of them and only fully realizing it later when he calmed down.

Ben crawls into bed like a pathetic little kid, crushing a pillow into his chest while curled up on his side.

He never should’ve lied about not knowing Rey. He never should’ve said what he said to her. He never should have done any of it. He knows.

He just couldn’t accept that she was going to _see_ him.

He couldn’t bear that the one person he’d connected with— the one person whose opinion he truly cared about— would learn everything about him from others and inevitably back away from him like everyone eventually does. He wanted her to know everything, he wanted to tell her, he did— but the way it all went down eliminated the option. So he shortened the painful process for both of them.

The truth is that Ben had been the one to let their separation happen that night at the fair.

It was all his fault. He’d rushed back from the giant basketball hoops after barely preventing Ushar from getting arrested for disorderly conduct and found Rey’s friends waiting in a group in the exact spot he had left her in. Rey wasn’t with them, but he knew that they were her friends because her bear— _their_ bear— was with them.

It was swinging in the arms of Poe Dameron, of all people. Ben had felt sick at the sight of him. It was the turbulent flood of thoughts and assumptions and sheer panic that fed his decision, in the end. It was insecurity. Poe is… _Poe,_ and he knows things about Ben that he didn’t want Rey to face yet, especially not on Poe’s terms. If he had walked up to the group, with or without Rey at his side, there was no telling how Poe would’ve reacted. And if Poe had gotten even a little aggressive for whatever reason... Ben wouldn’thave been able to de-escalate or walk away. He just wouldn’t have been able to do that. And then Rey would’ve seen the very worst of him right there, right then— along with all her friends.

So he chose inaction. He was so pathetic that he waited in the shadow of a food truck for her to return to her friends from wherever she’d gone to, just to get a last look at her. He’d left after that, but not before he overheard Rey and the others thank Dameron for the ride, and her brother insist that she ride shotgun with him. It was a small detail, but one that stuck with him far too long.

Ben knew he’d fucked up by letting her go like that, but never had _any_ intention of just leaving it there. He barely slept that night. Instead he’d thought in endless manic circles, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom— _he would find her again. He would find her again. He would find her._ If she wasn’t at school, he would still find her. Even if it took him months, he would find her.

At any cost, Ben Solo was going to find the punk-listening sunshine Brit who nearly out-smoked and outdrank him, and who made him want to talk and talk forever— a beyond-rare occurrence in his lifetime thus far.

But then the strangest thing happened, and he _did_ find her— and much quicker than he anticipated. But it wasn’t the moment Ben would’ve expected it to be, not at all. No. It was pure horror. He was not ready.

_Not her,_ he remembers thinking desperately that first morning in group the _second_ he realized who he was looking at. _No. No, please not her, not here._

But it was her, and he knew then, standing in that doorway, that it was all really over.

He wonders if they’re talking about him, now. He wonders if she’ll ask Beau or Tallie after group what his damage is, and what they’ll tell her. They don’t know everything, but they know enough to scare her away for good.

Isn’t that what he wanted? Isn’t that what he’s been trying to do?

Doesn’t matter. He already succeeded. He won. He reigned supreme over his own weakness and entirely eliminated her power over him, her ability to deny him. He crushed it.

Ben stares at the wall across his room and, in the dead silence of the lonely house, secretly lets himself remember fragments— the feel of her lips against his fingertips, her cheek pressed against his chest for warmth, the singular look of joy on her face when they found each other again in the mirror labyrinth.

_It’s all done,_ he echoes numbly. _I won._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winning? suffering? sure, same thing
> 
> ** this chapter's VIBE(S) ✔️: “Animal” by MISSIO & “First Love/Late Spring” by Mitski **  
> (chapter titles always come from the vibes. i am just vibing over here)
> 
> the songs Ben listens to in the shower are by The Buzzcocks, the band on Rey’s favorite t-shirt. 
> 
> thank you for reading :) 
> 
> next up: new puzzle pieces, a house party, a trucE??? stay tuned etc


	4. just like magnets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey goes to a house party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Warning(s:)  
> Hi! There’s smut in this chapter. That's the warning. I also changed the rating of the fic from M to E. Hope you enjoy!

Rey seems to have beaten Ben Solo.

He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t address her, doesn’t give her an ounce of attitude in the weeks after her round table stunt.

Nothing was ever mentioned again of his dramatically abrupt desertion from group that day— Rey figures Dr. Holdo must’ve only spoken in private to him about it because Rey literally starts to think she might’ve made the whole thing up in her head. None of the other kids seemed even slightly fazed by his unexplained return and, when he showed up and sat down on Thursday, everything simply went on as per usual as though it never happened.

Rey couldn’t believe it but was forced to accept it. It wasn’t like she could raise her hand and ask, ‘excuse me, what the fuck?’ and demand answers— not without revealing that she cared about it in the first place. About him.

She finds herself glancing at him in class when she gets the chance to do so unnoticed. The only thing she can glean from the glimpses, though, is how close-to-death tired he looks. Rey is annoyed to find that she doesn’t like it— to find that, even though she accomplished what she meant to, she’s neither pleased by nor satisfied with the result.

One unequivocally good thing that came from her aggression that day, however, was how it allowed her to find her footing in the group. Before, in other programs, Rey did only the bare minimum to coast through the curriculum and stay under the radar. Of course, this meant never really getting anything out of the experience— she’d have to open up and risk looking stupid or weak for that to happen, and it had simply never been worth it to her before.

It was becoming worth it, now. It was becoming easier, too.

Kaydel is definitely her favorite of the bunch; she is kind, and always gives the most rational, thoughtful feedback. She deals with a lot of anxiety like Rey does, it just manifests itself in different ways.

Rey can’t resist collecting little puzzle pieces that she picks up from group discussions to try and figure out the reasons for everyone’s being there. It’s not an exact science, as some people talk a lot and some barely at all. Her little ongoing mental databank that she keeps on all of them ends up pretty patchy and unbalanced, but still solid enough to make some educated guesses.

So far, she figures Kaydel has extreme anxiety issues— likely actual panic disorder. She’s never once mentioned her dad despite constantly talking about her mom, so ‘abandonment issues’ isn’t a bad guess to toss in, either.

She knows Armie was physically abused by his dad when he was younger and is here by instruction of a social worker, much like she is. But she only heard about it entirely by accident one day as she was walking by the doctor’s office, then felt insanely guilty about it for like a week. He clearly doesn’t want anyone to know, so Rey pretends she doesn’t.

Beau was harder to peg until one day he came in severely, uncharacteristically distressed after his little brother apparently tried to trick him into thinking he was having a delusion when he wasn’t. Rey’s empathy for the guy tripled that day. She’s learned from others over the years that living with reality distortion is terrifying.

Tallie is clear-cut depression. Maybe some kind of personality disorder— which kind, she can’t guess yet. Rey _can_ guess, however, why she’s never seen her wear anything but long sleeves and jeans. She might be nicer to the girl if she wasn’t such a bitch all the time. In some parallel universe where just one of them was slightly more approachable, Rey thinks they could’ve been friends.

Then, of course, there’s Ben. Ben, the one she wants to know about the most but understands the least. He’s got anger, sure. He obviously resorts to violence when he shouldn’t and seems to keep a lot bottled up. She also knows he smokes and drinks, which is something any mental health professional will whack you over the head with a stick for even considering, underage or not. She can’t really judge him there or else risk being a hypocrite, and she’s not judging— factually, that’s truly all she has of Ben Solo to put in her databank.

Rey couldn’t let the unknown factor of Ben control her experience in group, so she did her best to pretend he wasn’t there whenever she decided to speak. So, not long after that first round-table, Rey decided to trust them. All of them.

She told them about her friends and her exhaustion. She told them about how she secretly enjoyed school and all of the assignments and homework and studying. She even told them about Poe and the discomfort the whole situation has been causing her— without using any names, of course.

She confided in them about the constant feelings of guilt around the topic of Maz and everything the woman has been doing for her. On her shakiest days, Rey would even confide how afraid she was that all of the good things would be snatched away, how afraid she was that Maz would change her mind about wanting her, how afraid she was that she could be alone and unprotected again at any second.

She would talk about the fact that she has to fight panic on a daily basis— when people touch her, when too many people crowd her, when she’s by herself for too long, when she’s suddenly left somewhere alone when she’s not expecting it. Small stuff— dumb stuff. Still, stuff that she found she needed to say.

She was able to admit, too, that sometimes everything in her new life just feels like too much, that she wishes she could run away when she gets overwhelmed, that she sometimes wishes people would just leave her _alone,_ and other times wishes desperately that they wouldn’t.

Mostly she’s able to impart for the first time just how afraid she is all the time. She might not go into the things about her past that may have created that fear, but she’s still able to express the thoughts and feelings themselves. Saying them aloud sometimes is a relief in itself.

It’s even more of a relief to have sympathetic ears for the words to fall upon. Rey notices that the more she gives, the more the others tend to give back— well, most of the others anyway.

Ben still never shares when given the option. He never gives her feedback, either. Sometimes he’ll give a word or two to the others, but she sees right through it. He’s doing exactly what she used to— he’s doing the bare minimum only so as not to be called out for total despondency.

He’s always staring at the table or out the window or into the corner— never _at_ anyone, least of all her. Still— and, sure, she might be imagining this— Rey can sense him listening when she speaks, even when he’s staring into nothing with that cold, blank look on his face. She can’t say how she gets that impression, but she does. She knows he’s listening.

She tries not to think about it too much. She tries not to dwell on the fact that he is processing everything she says, that he’s hearing all of her deepest hopes and fears, that the boy who let her down the hardest now knows more about her than literally anyone in the world. Because, when she considers all she shared of herself to him alone that night in addition to everything in group, Rey can’t deny that Ben Solo probably knows the most a person has ever known of her true self.

She tries not to think about how sad that is, how painfully twisted; she tries not to think of him at all.

School is chaotic, but she adjusts quick. She’s made new acquaintances in most all of her classes even without the help of Finn or Rose. She’s happy that people generally seem to really like her, but Rey finds soon enough that it’s a lot of effort just actively _knowing_ so many people.

She, Finn, Rose, Poe, and Jess hang out sometimes after school, and then all of the time on the weekends. Rey seems constantly tired from always having something to do, somewhere to go, or someone to talk to. It’s a good kind of tired, though— not the kind of tired she sees in Ben when she dares to look.

Rose brings up needing to get some things from the mall at lunch one Friday, and when Poe hears that Rey has never been, he demands that the group make a day of it.

Maz gives Rey an extra pocketful of money to take with her, which Rey vehemently tries to refuse. It doesn’t work— Maz is too strong-willed, and Finn joins the argument halfway through in Maz’s favor. Glaring at Finn, Rey finally accepts the money with a very inadequate-feeling ‘thank you,’ pledging to herself not to spend most if not _any_ of it.

_Food,_ she decides, however, as she, Poe, and Finn walk into the massive foodcourt two hours later. Jess and Rose are still in one of the shops. Her mouth waters from all of the overwhelmingly savory scents. … _I’ll just spend it on food,_ she reasons. That’s a good compromise.

Rey gets a massive plate of Chinese food from the far side of the court, then rejoins her friends at their chosen table near the escalators. Poe grins as she settles in.

“I love that place,” he nods approvingly. Rey looks over at his tray— a hamburger and fries. “I split my business pretty evenly between all the places here,” he explains, “I like variety.”

“He does,” Finn affirms, laughing. He only bought a slushy from himself, but looks very content with it. “He eats at them one by one. It’s like a rotating schedule.”

She knows Poe likes data and organization and order, so thinking of him scheduling his mall food choices is kind of hilariously perfect. She grins at the image and starts digging into her heap of chow mien.

From her peripheral vision she notices the boys shoot amused smiles to each other. She slows down a little bit, embarrassed, but not quite enough to completely override her hunger.

“Uh, Rose says she wants my opinion on something,” Finn says distractedly, peering down at his phone. “I’m gonna go. Rey, your phone isn’t on silent anymore, is it?”

She scowls at his patronizing tone. “No. I’ve had a phone before, you know.”

“Great. Then you’ll know how to _check it_. See you guys later.”

Rey _hmphs_ and keeps eating.

“What do you think she wants his opinion on?” Poe asks with a mischievous glint in his eye once Finn is out of earshot.

“I don’t know,” Rey shrugs, not sure why Poe is looking at her like that. “Maybe some clothes.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Poe agrees without sounding like he really agrees. He laughs to himself and takes a bite of his burger and, in the brief quiet, Rey becomes acutely aware that they are alone.

But it’s not a date if they’re here in a group, is it? _But we’re not in a group anymore,_ Rey worries. _And Finn said that one time that Poe thought about asking me out. And now we’re alone eating food together._

Rey tries to drop the idea. It’s not a date unless it’s agreed upon that it is a date— yeah, that seems right. Still, the nerves won’t die.

“Do you know Ben Solo?” she blurts. She’d been waiting for a natural time to ask Poe about Ben, but it never really happened. This is as good a time as any, she decides on the spot.

He freezes with his burger halfway to his mouth and laughs uncomfortably. “What? Ben Solo?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean…” he trails, brows drawing together in either confusion or something else, something darker— she can’t tell. All she knows is that the question seems to have tripped up his usual easy-going flow. “Why do you ask?”

She scrambles for an answer, then settles for a version of the truth. “That time you walked me to Mr. Q’s class, I saw you and him… _look_ at each other. It seemed kind of intense.”

He rubs his chin.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she adds quickly. “I was just curious what that was about.”

“No, it’s okay.” He pauses, then leans in gravely. “Is he bothering you, Rey?”

The question is all soft and pseudo-protective, like he thinks he somehow knows what she’s really trying to get at.

“No! Not at all. Really, I was just curious,” she insists. “He isn’t bothering me or anything.”

Poe nods, still serious. “Good. It’s best to stay away from him if you can.”

“Why?”

“Because he has some serious fucking issues, that’s why.”

Rey bristles. “Everyone has issues.”

Poe looks embarrassed— he knows she goes to the IOP. She blushes and recovers as best she can.

“I just mean, what kind of issues would make a person bad enough to completely avoid?”

“The same kind that put his father in the hospital with three broken ribs, a broken jaw, and blunt force trauma to several internal organs,” he tells her flatly. “Among others.”

_Holy shit._ “What? Why?”

Poe barks a laugh. “What do you mean, why? The guy is fucking insane.”

“But how do you know that?” Rey urges.

“You mean other than the small clue that he nearly beat his own father to death?”

Rey just stares, at a total loss.

He sighs. “I intern for his mom and I know a bit about the family. She’s the senator whose office I go to during the week.”

“Wait. Senator Organa?” _Leia Organa is Ben’s mom?_

“That’s the one,” he affirms, angrily chomping on a fry. “I only hear bits and pieces, but it paints a god awful picture. I’ve walked in on her crying over him like five separate times. That poor woman.”

Rey is still catching up. “Wait, so you actually know her?”

“I mean, yeah. I act as one of her assistants when she’s here. I have a bit more responsibility helping with the actual administrative stuff whenever she’s in D.C., which is most of the time.”

“Oh my god.” _Who does Ben live with, then? His dad? That doesn’t seem likely._

“I know,” Poe shrugs smugly, completely misinterpreting her reaction. He continues in a falsely casual manner. “She’s a really cool lady. She’s sort of my mentor— I want to serve in Congress one day. She’s taught me a lot. She’s going to write my letter of recommendation for my Georgetown app."

It’s then that a piece of the Ben puzzle clicks into place— the Poe vs. Ben piece, at least. Rey can see exactly why the two of them hate each other. Strangely, she finds herself understanding what she imagines Ben’s point of view is even clearer than Poe’s.

He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s lucky Ben took his dad’s name. It makes covering up most of the shit he gets into from the public a lot easier. Not easy, but easier.”

“Yeah,” Rey agrees hollowly. She only has a million more questions now, but she knows Poe is not the person to ask if she still wants to keep some things to herself.

“I’m glad you asked me, though,” he says warmly, as though he sees Rey’s question as some sort of demonstration of her deep trust in him. “If you’re going to be in a class with a monster like him, you should at least be aware of it.”

_‘Animal’_ is what she had called him _._

None of this feels right. Poe’s hand comes to rest over her own on top of the table and Rey manages not to flinch.

“I’m glad,” he repeats. “You can always tell me anything or ask me anything. Okay?”

“Thanks, Poe,” she says carefully, then gently retracts her hand back into her lap. “I have to go, though, actually. I just remembered something I have to do for my therapy group tomorrow. Something I have to finish.”

_Real principled,_ she criticizes, _lying and_ _using therapy as an excuse on someone who doesn’t know anything about it._

It works, though. His eyes change. People truly are more willing to excuse such things when you remind them that you’re fragile. She hates using it like this, but goddamn if she isn’t grateful for it right now.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks eagerly as he stands with her. Rey realizes that he probably thinks they’ve just bonded.

“No, thank you, though.” She tries to sound as authentically grateful as she can as she rushes to close up her to-go box. “I’ll see you later. If you see Finn, can you tell him I went home?” He opens his mouth to answer but— “Thank you so much, Poe. You’re the best.” She takes off without another word or glance, mind spinning only around all of the new information.

Rey walks the full eight blocks to their high school from the mall, carrying her Chinese food under one arm like a football the entire way. She wasn’t about to _waste_ it.

She winds around the back of the school property to the football field and easily locates the little spot under the bleachers that Ben led her to that night at the fair. She didn’t actually expect to somehow find him there, but she still feels a baby twinge of disappointment when she approaches and the spot is empty.

She sits cross-legged, leaning back against a support beam, and just breathes for a while. It’s nice and cool in the partial shade. The grass is soft and full under here, not-worn out like the rest of it out there that gets trampled by the entire student body every day. Rey sees why Ben likes it here.

She eats the rest of her lukewarm food with a plastic fork in silence, trying not to think too hard about why she came here, of all places. She chews and swallows robotically over and over again, mind wandering out and away from the subject of Ben like an erratic tide. She tries to recall what it felt like to be in his presence when he didn’t hate her. She can’t quite remember. She tries but she can’t let it go.

Poe said Ben almost beat his own father to _death_. She’s not sure what to do with that information. She has to imagine there is a lot more to that story.

Maybe she should be disgusted, but really she just wants to know _why_. He never mentioned his dad to her or to the group while she’s been there. He had mentioned his mom to her, though— more than once. She remembers the look on Ben’s drunk, hilariously impassioned face as he explained to her how his mom used to make him watch _‘Singin’ In the Rain’_ as a kid and how he learned to love it by hating it until he didn’t.

She imagines the kind-faced senator tucking in a much younger, smaller, feverish Ben Solo and putting the classic onfor him to watch despite his angry little protestations. Rey smiles at the mental image, but it hurts.

The only little tune that she can recall from her semi-recent watch of the musical starts running through her head softly. It’s a happy song, but it sounds so sad to her now. It feels sad in the same way love songs feel sad in movies when they play over scenes of characters being lonely or dying or saying goodbye— heartbreakingly dissonant.

Rey should leave it alone.

… _Singin’ in the rain, just singin’ in the rain_

_What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again_

_I’m laughing at clouds so dark up above_

_The sun’s in my heart and I’m ready for love…_

Okay,Rey _needs_ to leave it alone. But even when she finishes her food, she is reluctant to leave the little spot she associates with him, with the story, with many other things she won’t let herself think about, and now with this song.

The sun is getting lower in the sky and casts orange and pink hues against the clouds above. It’s beautiful. Maybe she’ll just stay here forever.

That’s when her phone starts ringing. She checks— it’s Finn.

Rey drops her head into her hand and braces for the questions. “Hey, Finn.”

His voice is urgent. “Rey, where are you? Did you seriously go home?”

“Yeah.” She really hopes he’s not there right now to call bullshit.

“Why, are you okay?” _Whew._

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just remembered some stuff I needed to do.”

Finn sighs. They both know she’s lying and neither has to say it. “Okay, fine. But are you actually okay, though?”

Rey feels a pang of guilt. “Yes, I am. You don’t have to worry about me. Go have fun with Rose and everyone, I’m fine.”

“Well that’s part of why I’m calling— Jess got details for a party tonight and we’re all gonna go. Are you down?”

“A party? Where? Whose?”

“I don’t know, a girl from Jess’s calc class that she’s been making friends with. I don’t know her, but Poe does. He says she’s cool. Will you come with us?”

A spike of anxiety slows her roll. “I don’t know… will Maz be okay with it?”

“I’m telling Maz I’m staying over at Poe’s, you can tell her the same with Rose.”

She winces. Lying to Maz? “But… is Rose okay with that?”

He huffs on the other line, then there’s shuffling. “ _Hey— talk to Rey. Tell her to come to the party.”_

“Rey!” Rose’s bright voice shines through the speaker. “What’s up? You’re coming with us, right?”

“I don’t—”

“Come on, you can sleep over at my house after, it’ll be fun!”

Rey pauses. That sounds kind of nice, and it’s technically not lying to Maz if she actually sleeps over at Rose’s. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course! Come over before, too, I want to finally do your makeup! You can borrow something of mine to wear, too, if you want! I know I have some stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” Rey agrees, finally smiling. This could be fun— her first house party in Chandrila. She’s no stranger to the concept, she’s been to many before in much rougher places. This will just be her first here, with all her new friends. This is a good thing.“Thanks, Rose. When should I come over?”

Rose’s house thankfully isn’t too far from here.

“Now!” she laughs. Rey can imagine Rose’s big smile from her voice. “We’re leaving the mall right now so we have time to get ready.”

“Okay,” Rey grins, starting to feel excited. “I’ll see you soon.”

‘Getting ready’ ends up being quite the process.

Rose sweeps Rey straight to the back of the house the second she sets foot on the doorstep.

“Come on, we don’t have long! The boys are coming back for us in an hour!”

It sounds like plenty of time to Rey, but she doesn’t object. She does eventually ask where Jess is, however— she’d assumed that the three of them would stick together.

“She’s with Finn and Poe trying to get booze to bring. Between you and me, she seems kinda anxious about everything. I think she likes this girl, the one who’s throwing the party.”

Rey smiles and raises her eyebrows at the gossip, which makes Rose swear loudly. Rey finds this hilarious. “No! Stop that! Don’t move!”

“Sorry!”

Rose has to stop and fix whatever it was that she was doing to Rey’s eyelids, but keeps messing it up and finally just removes all of it with a makeup wipe, grumbling.

“Graphic liner is a no-go. Everything else looks fine, just put a bunch of this on. When you think you’re done, you’re not. Put _at least_ two more coats on after that.”

Rose hands her a thick tube of black mascara and leaves to find clothes to offer her. Rey obeys the command, using a handheld mirror as her guide. She asks Rose to leave her hair as it is in its wavy half-up bun, though— that needs to stay the same. For her own comfort, it just does.

Rey is somehow convinced to wear a dress. How exactly, she doesn’t know, but when Poe, Finn, and Jess come back to pick them up, she’s standing somewhat awkwardly on the curb in a pretty, light blue cap-sleeved dress. It has a form-fitting waist but a fluttery skirt that falls halfway to her knees. It isn’t something she ever would’ve considered for herself, but Rey adores it. It feels right, and she likes how it makes her legs look when paired with her big black thick-soled boots. She feels… pretty. Tough and pretty.

“Hop in!” Finn calls with a big grin from the passenger’s seat as Poe pulls up.

They do.

“You guys look nice,” Poe says with a glance at the back seat. Jess is pushed all the way to one side and poor Rose, who’s the smallest, has to squish in the middle.

“Shut up the fuck up, Dameron,” Jess says for them. Rey starts laughing, then stops abruptly when she realizes she’s the only one.

“Thanks, Poe,” Rose says sweetly, giving Rey a sideways look.

“Yeah, thanks,” Rey adds. She notices after the fact that Poe was watching her respond through the rearview mirror. He gives her a private little smile, which Rey returns then quickly looks away from.

“Anyone want a drink?” Finn asks mischievously, holding up a bottle of cheap plain vodka.

“Me,” Rey says way too fast.

Jess cracks up. “Same, girl.”

“Careful, peanut,” Finn says as he passes it back to her. “Everyone has Uber in their phone and everything, right?”

Everyone affirms at varying volumes, mumbles, and thumbs-ups.

“Good. I prefer you assholes alive.”

Rey smiles, unscrewing the lid and cracking open the seal in the process. It’s a satisfying sound.

“Cheers to that.” She takes a swig and ignores the overdramatic, horrified noises coming from everyone in the car. She learned how to drink without chasers or mixers a long time ago. It’s her superpower.

“Oh my god,” Jess exclaims. “Rey’s hardcore! Why didn’t you guys tell me? Give it here!”

Rey holds up a finger, takes another sip, then passes it.

The entire time she’s aware of Poe’s gaze flickering back and forth to her through the mirror. The entire time she pretends not to see it.

It takes the crew longer to get to the place than they expected. By the time they find the particular generic suburban two-story house they’re looking for, the party is in full swing and Rey is well past tipsy.

Rey recognizes about half of the people she first sees inside— she’d guess most of them were seniors, but she still recognizes a few faces from her own classes. The music is loud as hell, but the people playing some sort of drinking game in the living room are even louder.

“Jessika!” a happy voice shouts from the group. A very tall senior girl with short blonde hair and red cheeks extricates herself from a cluster of people and works her way over to them. Well— over to Jess. The girl doesn’t bother to acknowledge the rest of them.

“Hey, Phas,” Jess says in an almost timid, very un-Jess-like manner.

“Hey!” The girl gives her a sort of bro hug, which clearly flusters her. “You came!”

Rose smiles pointedly at Rey with lifted eyebrows.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Poe says in a low voice to the rest of them, and Rey nods.

“I’ve never seen her freeze like that,” Finn laughs once they settle in the kitchen. “An Achilles heel. Who knew.”

Rose scowls and looks like she wants to contest that, but doesn’t get the chance.

“Oh my god,” Poe mutters, glowering in the other direction. “Is Phasma friends with those guys?” He juts his chin out the window to the back yard. Rey lines up her sights by getting next to him. All she sees are a couple of punk-looking guys smoking together and laughing about something.

“I don’t know,” Finn shrugs. “I thought you said you knew her.”

“I had _class_ with her once,” Poe clarifies defensively. “I don’t know every one of her friends.”

“What’s the big deal? Who are they?” Rose interjects. “Do you have problems with _everyon_ e, Poe?”

Rey laughs at the dig and keeps drinking from her bottle. Poe starts explaining his beef with the guys outside when Rey is distracted by a flash of familiar red hair and grins. Maybe it wouldn’t seem like the most sensical reaction later, but Rey bolts from the kitchen with a rushed excuse and follows that glossy red beacon into the crowded dining room.

“Armie!” she calls. “Hey! Armie!”

He sees her and visibly sighs. She can see it from across the room and laughs.

“Not you, too” he groans.

“You’re at a party!” she exclaims, utterly delighted. He’s normally so grumpy and isolated, but look! Armie’s at a party!

“And you’re intoxicated,” he counters, as though she had been accusing him of doing something wrong.

Rey shrugs, swinging the vodka. “Maybe!”

“Do you even know anyone here?”

“Uh, yeah— you, silly. Do you?” She stole that from someone, she thinks.

“Yes, actually. This is my friend’s house.”

“Phasma’s your friend?” That’s hard to imagine.

“Yes, and if you’ll excuse me, I have to go inform her that there are hooligans on her roof trying to throw each other into the _pool_.”

Rey laughs. The vague memory of a tale of a boy almost getting thrown off a ferris wheel swirls through her mind. Armie doesn’t seem as amused.

“Don’t puke anywhere.”

“Good to see you, too,” she salutes. He rolls his eyes and pushes past her, but she thinks she sees the corner of a little smile as he goes. “You’re one of my favorites!” she calls after him lovingly.

Rose comes up beside her. “Who was that?”

“My friend Armie. Doesn’t he have beautiful hair?”

Rose laughs and reaches for the vodka. “Yeah, he totally does. Here, I’ll take that.”

Loud shouts comes from outside, followed by a giant splash, followed by a chorus of even louder shouts and laughter.

“What the—?” Rose whips around towards the sound.

“The hooligans have succeeded,” Rey informs her friend, then follows an impulse to see what all those people in the living room were doing.

Whatever game is being played involves dice, empty cups, and a timer. Jess is by the game table talking to Phasma, who looks to be telling her a very involved story. Rey doesn’t want to bother them or invest her energy into learning the game, so she moves on to the next room. It’s full of clusters of people talking, but no one she knows. It’s boring. She ends up back in the kitchen.

Poe and Finn are in conversation with a couple of guys that Rey recognizes as Poe’s preppy senior friends. She doesn’t particularly care to join in, but she does spot the other bottle of liquor they brought with them sitting unopened and unguarded on the counter.

As stealthily as she knows how, Rey walks past and swipes the bottle, leaving swiftly out the kitchen door that connects to the back yard. Nobody yells or protests or chases after her, so she thinks she’s pulled it off. She smiles to herself and opens up the bottle with a bit of struggle. She has to use her teeth, but she finally breaks the seal that her sweaty hands alone couldn’t get a grip on.

When she finally thinks to actually look around, Rey finds herself practically face to face with the punk-ish boys in all black that Poe had indicated beef with earlier. One’s tall and lanky with a buzzcut and the other is slightly shorter and stockier with messy bleached hair and an eyebrow ring. They’re both staring at her with mild curiousity.

“Hi,” Rey says lamely, because at this point it would be rude not to. They totally just saw her open a screw-top bottle of liquor with her molars like an animal.

“Hey,” the one on the right says, smiles, then tilts his close-shaved head at her. “Did you steal that?”

“What? No! Well, yes. But no. My friends and I brought it, but I just stole it from them, so… kind of.”

He raises his eyebrows at his friend and laughs. “Oh, she’s a thief.”

“Am not,” Rey scowls.

“I was kidding,” he assures her. 

“Right.” She frowns and takes a swig. Ugh. Why did Finn get _rum?_ They both hate it. _It was probably Poe’s idea,_ she reasons. She takes another to wash down that particular thought.

“Wow,” the pierced one laughs under his breath. Rey feels her face heat up.

“Here,” she shoves it at him. “Have some.” It’s not really a question nor an offer.

“Ooooh,” the taller one snickers. “Yeah, have some, Trudge.”

He takes it and spins it in his hand. Rey raises her eyebrows.

“Okay then,” he says ultra-casually after glancing up at her, then downs a long gulp. He doesn’t make a horrible face, but he coughs a little and totally wrinkles his nose after.

“Hm,” she notes sweetly, then nods at the other one. “You too, go on.”

He laughs like he’s absolutely enchanted by her gall, then enthusiastically follows suit. He does better than his friend.

Rey notices the faded image on his t-shirt and grins. “Hey, Dropkick Murphys! You listen to them?”

He looks at her quizzically, unbelieving. “Yeah. Do you?”

She snorts. “No. Not my thing, but I can appreciate it.”

The two glance at each other and laugh almost uncomfortably, like they’re not sure what to do with her. “What is your thing, then?”

“Good music,” she replies without hesitation.

Trudge looks genuinely shocked and offended at this— the tall one, however, is thrown into stitches. He practically howls with laughter, leaning forward at one point to stabilize himself with his hands on his knees. Rey watches on with satisfaction and, finally, he calms down and shakes his head as though trying to clear it.

“Jesus Christ! This little girl, man! Okay, hold up, hold up, hold up. Hang on a second. What are— wait, okay, do you go to Chandrila?” he asks, very invested in her now.

He tries to hand back her bottle but she shakes her head, gesturing for them to go ahead and have some more. She has the feeling that neither of them really wants to keep drinking but finds it hilarious that they’ll do it anyway if a 'little girl’ applies the tiniest amount of pressure. Yep— he slowly retracts the bottle and hands it over to ‘Trudge’ for them to keep passing between them.

“Yeah,” she says, amused by their predictability. She’s starting to enjoy this interaction much more. “What about you guys?”

“Graduated last year.”

“Cool. So… do you guys have names, then?”

“I’m Vic, that’s Trudge,” he gestures. “You?”

“Rey.”

“I think I like you, Rey,” Vic laughs, eyes quickly giving her the once-over. “Here.” She accepts the bottle this time and feels warm and accomplished. It’s nice to be liked.

“You look like a _fairy,_ ” Trudge notes, eyeing her fluttery dress. It crosses Rey’s mind that the quiet one is probably high as a kite.

“Yeah, but she drinks like a pirate.”

It’s stupid, but they all laugh. Rey decides that she likes them.

It looks like Trudge might be about to add something as he notices her shoes, but that’s when Vic suddenly perks up, his eyes catch on something across the yard.

“Oi!” Vic shouts with a wide, up-to-something grin. “Ben! Come over here for a second!”

_Ben._

Then she feels like an idiot— because of course these are his friends. Her reaction is to laugh as she processes it, but it sounds absurd. Her insides do a weird scoop. 

_Of course._

She looks over her shoulder, and there he fucking is. And he’s… wet?

Yes— Ben Solo is starting towards them, soaking wet, intoxicated, and, strangest of all, half- _smiling_ at her.

She holds her breath, but he doesn’t stop his approach. He doesn’t turn back, he doesn’t avert his eyes, and he doesn’t cloak his expression. He heads straight for them with calm but unshakable fearlessness in his posture. Rey can’t pretend it doesn’t immediately make her feel light-headed and lopsided. This is all wrong.

The energy radiating from him vibrates at a frequency entirely unfamiliar to her. The distance between them feels like living, breathing chaos. He’s wilder, clearer, almost cocky. Unmasked.

Rey feels frozen, suddenly unable to look at him directly. Just earlier today at school, like normal, these roles between them were completely reversed, so… _what the fuck is going on?_

“This is Rey,” Vic announces as his friend reaches them. Ben doesn’t lift his gaze from her for even a second. "She just stole some booze and then insulted the Dropkick Murphys in front of us. Thought you might find her interesting.”

_What is happening? What is he doing? What am I supposed to do?_

“D’you know her?” Trudge pipes up when Ben says nothing. He shrugs at the subtle glare Vic gives him. “What? He might! She said she goes to Chandrila.”

Ben gets right next to Rey as though to get a closer look at her to answer the question— much closer than he realistically needs to. She hasn’t been this close to him since… since kissing him in the fun house that night. She suppresses a shiver.

His massive figure casually looming over her like this with that invasive, unhurried gaze roaming over her is overwhelming, to say the least. How the hell does he pull off being this intense all the time? It’s not fair that he can flip this switch and make her forget how angry she is with just his fucking _eyes._

_No!_ S _top being a little bitch, s_ he commands before making herself look up.

Rey hates that he’s so attractive. She hates that there isn’t another person on the planet who has yet to affect her like he does. She hates it. It’s not fair and it makes all of this so much harder. Why him? Why does it have to be him?

_I want to be able to want him,_ a little voice inRey’s head whispers traitorously.Sober-Rey could probably never admit this, not even to herself. _But I will,_ the drunk little voice adds pathetically, entirely too aware of the futility of the situation.

His wet black t-shirt clings to his torso, making the fit essentially skin-tight across his chest and shoulders. His shoulders are wider than she remembers— the entirety of him is wider than she remembers, actually. His hair has been pushed back from his face haphazardly, some of the strands still dripping drops of water down his face. Under the chlorine, he still smells like clean laundry and salt and faint musk.

She dares to meet his gaze. His eyes are the worst of all— both the hardest to look at and the hardest to look away from. They’re warm for her now but still dangerously sharp. It’s staggering to see him so open after being denied it for so long. He takes his time searching her face.

He gives the tiniest twist of a smile that only she can see. “No.”

She lifts an eyebrow like she’s unimpressed with his response, but her heart hammers in her chest like crazy. This feels different. This feels very different. His ‘no’ was less of a dismissal and more of an inside joke, it felt like. With her? An inside joke with her? About the time he lied to their group and basically broke her fucking heart? _Is he even allowed to joke about that?_

He seems to follow her train of thought— because of course he can— and a brief dark cloud passes across his face. Why is her first instinct to reach out and caress it away and not to slap him?

“Yeah,” Rey echoes him, too lost to actually turn and address Vic and Trudge directly. “No. Don’t think so.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth quirks up again and his eyes soften a fraction.

She’ll regret this tomorrow in group when he won’t look her in the eye again, but how can she turn it down when it’s offering itself up on a platter? How can she deny herself? He’s _right there_ in front of her, smiling at her. He’s smiling at her in the way she’s been struggling to remember recently— the details of what it felt like had been slowly dissolving from her memory, but now here he is, giving it back to her. She is weak; she is weak and willing to shelf her pride for this crumb, as horrible as it is.

She bites her cheek, then holds the rum out to him in offering. “Why are you so wet, _Ben?_ ”

Smiling, he accepts it. There’s a trace of relief somewhere under the drunken confidence. Rey catches it and tucks the memory of it away for herself.

“Water.”

“No shit.” It’s the last thing she said in the fun house before he’d backed her against that wall. She knows he remembers.

She vaguely registers Vic and Trudge laughing at her boldness, backing her up in the verbal assault against their friend. They could be a million miles away right now for all she cares.

“Careful, sunshine.” His voice jokes with her but his eyes don’t, even though he’s smiling. Rey blushes. This is insane, a horrible idea, and an overall disaster waiting to happen… and she doesn’t want it to stop.

“Fine,” she concedes. “I’ll amend— _how_ did you get so—”

“Let me show you something,” he interrupts, holding out his hand. _Does he really mean for me to just take it?_ One glance at his face says yes. So she slips her hand into his without another thought. The pressure of the big warm grip, still a little damp from the pool, is comforting, grounding, electrifying.

Ben is starting to pull her to the other side of the yard when Rey remembers the others and looks over her shoulder. “See you guys!”

“Yeah, for sure!” Vic calls back. Then, once she turns back around, Rey hears him grumble to Trudge under his breath, “How the fuck does he do that?”

“Dunno,” Trudge mutters.

“No seriously, like, how does Ben fucking _do_ that?”

Rey laughs and looks up at Ben, who doesn’t seem to have heard the exchange. The focused look on his face gives her a clench of anxiety.

“Ben,” she says. He doesn’t hear her. “Ben.” He looks down. “What are we doing?”

“I’m showing you Phas’s pool shed,” he says. She wonders if he heard what she was really asking and is only pretending he didn’t.

They walk single file, still linked by their hands, along the edge of the pool in order to slip by most of the crowd unobstructed. She has to look down and watch her step as she thinks of what to say next, wondering just how likely it is that he’ll withdraw if she starts asking _real_ questions.

“Okay, but I mean—”

“Watch out!” someone calls shrilly from their left.

Before Rey even sees what she’s supposed to be watching out for, she’s checked hard on the shoulder by something with serious momentum and shoved sideways; it happens so fast that she doesn’t even have the time to register the horror of heading straight for the water.

She doesn’t end up splashing into the deep end, though— at the very last second, she’s lifted sharply off the ground, pulled into a broad chest, spun away from the water’s edge, and left dangling. She blinks, taking a second just to look around and understand what happened when some girls start clapping.

“Bravo!” a couple of them cheer, not looking at her but at— oh. Of course.

_Ben._ She’s being propped up like a rag doll in Ben’s arms. He’s holding her a good two feet off the ground, his grip around her lower torso like a vice binding her tightly against him. She can feel the water from his sodden clothes soaking through the front of her dress. It’s a cold sensation but underneath is burning body heat. Her arms settle themselves around his neck instinctively, taking more of his warmth for herself.

“Thanks.”

“It’s actually kind of nice in there,” he jokes. In their little bubble, he doesn’t have to speak above a murmur even amidst the loud, tightly-packed crowd. Rey finds herself watching his lips as he speaks. “Walking around wet afterwards, not so much.”

He’s reminded of something and sets her down. Rey looks down at herself—she looks like she fell face-down in a puddle. She starts laughing.

Ben turns and sees what she’s laughing at. “Oh no.”

“It’s okay—”

Ben picks her up again like she weighs nothing, this time scooping her up with one arm under hers and another sweeping down to hoist her by the backs of her knees. Rey lets out a little scream that turns into a giggle as she re-latches her hold around his neck for stability. Her first instinct is to insist that she can _walk just fine on my own, thank you very much,_ but another, stronger part of her keeps a clamp on it. She can have this one thing.

“I have the solution,” he assures her with exaggerated seriousness.

Seeing him joke around is so strange. So strange but so wonderful. He just _looks_ so much lighter.

People move out of the way like magic. It might be that they both look soaking wet, it might be that the way he’s holding her makes it look like she’s injured, or it might be that Ben has plastered a murderous scowl on his face that nobody else can see through but her.

Ben kicks open the door to a shed in the corner of the yard and ducks in. The inside is shockingly nicer than the outside; it looks like the inside of tricked-out tree houses she’s seen in movies. It's maybe the size of a small bedroom, with a steeply sloped roof. No pool maintenance equipment is in sight— instead, there’s assorted forms of seating all over, a couple of small coffee tables, clutter, and colored lights strung wildly across all the walls and ceiling. The string lights are the only source of light inside, making the room dim but glowing in scattered hues.

Ben sets Rey down on top of a rudimentary piece of furniture that looks something like a small dresser or filing cabinet near the door, which he closes with another kick. The noises from the throng of drunk kids outside instantly muffle to half their previous volume as soon as it slams shut.

“What is this?” Rey asks, looking around.

Ben isn’t listening. He flips his head forwards and shakes out his hair like a dog, sending a fine spray of water over Rey. “They used to keep towels in here.”

He starts poking around the far corner of the little clubhouse.

“What do you mean they used to? Phasma?”

“Yeah, we grew up together. I’ve spent a lot of time in that pool.”

Rey can’t believe he’s volunteering personal information.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, smirking, and she realizes he’s watching her reaction.

“Don’t be so surprising,” she shoots back. Not her best.

“Is it surprising that I have friends other than—?” He gestures with his head in the general direction of Vic and Trudge. “—Or surprising that I’m a natural born swimmer?”

“It’s surprising that you’re talking to me, actually. Telling me anything, looking at me at all.”

Kneeling on the ground in front of an open cupboard, Ben thinks about this in silence, then gives a smiling, half-joking noncommittal shrug before resuming his search.

_Wait, is that it?_ She can’t believe it.

“What does _that_ mean?” she demands, mimicking his vague shrug.

“There aren’t towels here,” he declares. “Sorry. I was going to give you one.”

“How chivalrous.”

“Thank you.”

“That was sarcasm.”

Ben makes his way back over to her. There are a few beams in the ceiling on his way over that he needs to duck, but he seems to know where exactly where they are without needing to look away from her. Again, Rey marvels in equal awe and horror at how calm and composed he is right now— and in such a different way than the ‘composure’ he’s shown in the past couple months. Then it was a rigid mask, and now it is a clear, open field. This is scarier than the mask ever was— this is real.

Ben stops just in front of her and leans forward, propping himself against her dresser with one arm, then the other. He’s looking at her at perfect eye level, arms not touching her but casually trapping her on either side of where she sits.

“Did you know those were my friends?” he asks softly. “When you talked to them?”

“No,” Rey answers evenly with some effort, shrinking back a little. “Although I should have.”

His lips curve into an amused shape— it couldn’t quite be called a smile. “Why? Would you have avoided them?”

“No,” she frowns. Ben shifts his weight and adjusts his grip on the edges of the dresser. Without meaning to, Rey reacts physically and shifts herself, too, pushing herself closer against the wall behind her and pulling herself taller. Ben smiles.

“No, I think you would have.”

“Believe it or not, Ben Solo, my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

He laughs. “That I know, sunshine.”

The way he says it makes her think that he knows something she doesn’t, or at least thinks he does. She scowls, but it takes so much energy. She realizes she’s leaning to one side a bit and straightens herself up. She sighs, tilting her head at him in defeat. She’s tired, she’s drunk, and all she fucking wants is more of Ben Solo and all he ever gives her are either cruel little scraps or nothing at all.

“Why are you doing this, Ben?” she whispers. “What are you doing?”

His expression flickers. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s not the answer she wanted.

Rey watches his face for clues but she doesn’t know if she can even trust what she sees. Nothing ever matches up with him— his actions, his words, his eyes. His body language is stormy and all-consuming and burning. His words are light and teasing and disposable. Most confusing are his eyes. Rey sees the bottomless affection in them rising to the surface to meet her, and it threatens to stop her very heart. The sight of it makes her want to melt, want to hope, want to fight to hold onto it… but she just can’t trust him.

Still, traitorously, her head shakes in answer. _No. I don’t stop want you to stop._ She feels like she might cry.

Ben drops his gaze and dips forward with slow, agonizing control. When his nose skims her cheek, Rey is the one to lift and press herself fully to his lips. It feels like a long exhale, a blanket, warmth, relief— not just from this night, this day, this week, but from months of holding back and carrying around an unnoticed weight building in her chest.

It’s nothing like the carnival. Both of them are way more intoxicated now than they were that night, but this is nothing close to the enthused, fun, careless kind of kisses they threw at each other then. For how fucked up they are in this moment, and how long she’s been repressing whatever this is, they should really be ripping off clothes right now, mashing tongues, grabbing each other in sloppy passion. But they’re not. It’s not like that.

It’s quiet at first. Careful. Aching and soft, with a silent undercurrent of desperation. Rey can’t believe that Ben is _capable_ of this— that he’s giving it to her now. He was playing the cocky-dominant card just seconds ago, but now he’s kissing her like they’ve lived three lifetimes in love and now he’s saying goodbye. It’s intense and confusing, but she doesn’t even consider pulling away because she can _pretend_ like this. She can pretend things are different when Ben is holding her like she is the most precious thing in the world, when being with him makes her feel safe instead of sick.

_This isn’t fair,_ it occurs to her. It isn’t fair that he can do _this_ on command while simultaneously not caring about it, about her. How can he kiss her like this and also say he doesn’t want to look at her, listen to her, know her? She doesn’t even want to entertain the thought that he was somehow lying when he said that— it’s dangerous to allow that kind of hope, especially with months of evidence against it. She simply has to accept that this moment exists in a bubble; it’s the only way to allow herself to have it and not go crazy. If that’s how it has to be, then she can do that.

Rey brings a gentle hand around the back of Ben’s neck, slipping it under the damp hair at his nape. She feels literal goosebumps raise on his skin under her fingertips. She remembers he’s still in entirely wet clothes and pulls him closer to her, spreading her knees so that he has the room to lean over the dresser.

One of her knees hits the hand that Ben had been leaning on and he lifts it onto her thigh. It’s such a small thing, but it kicks Rey into another gear. Ben’s mouth grows heavier on hers and Rey matches it. She tries running her tongue along his lips, teasing with shy little movements. It elicits a surge of intensity from him that slams back a dominance into the kiss that makes her pulse jump. Rey knows how strong he is. She knows he won’t hurt her, and that sureness burns dense and hot inside her, flooding bright heat across every inch of her skin.

Ben’s hand digs into her thigh while the other reaches around her waist and back, using it to pull her close to the edge of the countertop in one sharp movement. She makes a surprised little noise in the back of her throat, but doesn’t pull away from him. She’s not sure he’d let her. Rey’s heart flutters violently from her chest up into her throat.

Ben’s angle above her is far steeper now that they’re closer and his hands aren’t being used to lower him down. Her face is practically angled straight up to the ceiling in order to keep meeting his lips. The hand from her waist trails up to her face, holding the side of her cheek and jaw as he slows the kiss with gut-melting intention. She opens into it, a stilted little moan escaping her.

Rey’s mind is spiraling. All she can process is each physical sensation as it comes and even then, it’s lost in the last or anticipation of the next. Still, she wants more. She’s never felt this… _needy._

Ben’s lower hand slides further up Rey’s leg, greedily running over her skin as though he could claim it, as though he could memorize her if he was deliberate enough. His breathing is erratic, too, she notices. She’s glad he’s losing his cool— it’s satisfying and it proves something, makes her feel sane and warm and powerful. His hand skims past the fabric of her underwear at her hip and keeps moving under the skirt of her dress to reach her bare waist. The rough and hungry feeling of his fingers moving across her skin alone is maddening. It makes something in her run wild with the idea of his fingers. It makes her want to toss out all reason.

Rey’s knees squeeze into either side of Ben’s hips. She doesn't realize she's doing it at first— her body is just quietly hoping for the same small relief it gets from pressing her own legs together. But the relief doesn't come like before because she's never felt anything quite like this before— it's raw and thrilling and embarrassing at once. Ben’s hand strokes the bare skin at her side soothingly. It trails its calming pattern closer and closer to her lower stomach and then across the seam of her underwear. Rey realizes that he’s teasing her. She thinks to laugh, but she really can’t and she doesn’t— frustrated, she whimpers as her legs press more tightly into him.

“S'okay, sunshine,” he murmurs against her lips. The stupid nickname feels so personal in this context that it sends a fresh flood of heat through her. He sounds pleased with himself— which Rey decides she can be annoyed about later— but mostly he sounds utterly dazed and thick in the throat with something. He slides his fingers down the front of her cotton underwear, but suddenly stutters and stops.

Rey twists her hips a little in anticipation. Then, realizing he’s not kissing her, either, she looks up. It sends a massive shockwave through her.

_This is Ben Solo. The guy who has caused me the most pain since I got to Chandrila. The asshole who befriended me, abandoned me, then humiliated me._

_But, also… this is Ben Solo. The most beautiful boy I’ve ever met. The person who knows me best in this world, who showed me kindness, who I feel connected to despite everything._

He’s watching her with dark eyes and parted lips, struggling to breathe evenly. He looks confused, unbelieving, dark, hungry, delirious. Unfortunately, whoever Ben Solo is, Rey realizes she will still want him. That will simply be her burden to bear.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Ben laughs out once, smiling down at her with his hand still unmoving.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “I’m okay. Are you?”

Rey nods and strokes her thumb across the back of his neck. He doesn't move towards her. Why isn't he moving towards her? A desperate fluttering chokes her. “Come back,” she says finally in a little undignified breath.

Ben looks like a true teenage boy for a split second in his astonishment. His face settles into new lines and puts a look in his eyes that is about to make her start begging. Thankfully, he leans forward and kisses her in answer.

At the same time, his fingers press lightly into the soft flesh through the fabric. It’s indirect, but it elicits a soft moan from her all the same. Ben keeps his fingers there and shifts the pressure in little circles, unsure at first but getting the hang of it by listening to her.

No one has ever touched Rey like this. Ben is the first.

Rey gets over the shock of the situation pretty quickly when the intensity of the feeling starts to take over. She tries to keep it together, but she can’t.

“Ben,” she begs in a small voice, immediately embarrassed. It came out of her mouth without permission from her brain. He doesn’t seem to think it’s embarrassing, though— he watches her rapturously.

“Is it okay?” he asks in a barely-there breath of a voice. 

“Yes,” she almost laughs.

He makes an appreciative soft, rumbling noise in his throat and starts kissing along her jaw, then down her neck. His free hand holds her waist in place so she can’t squirm too much or move away from his touch. Then, against her throat, barely intelligible, he murmurs her name. Multiple times. She swears it sounds like he's not even aware he's saying it out loud. It floods her. 

He breathes out and stops abruptly halfway through picking her up. “—Can I?”

Rey nods, heart pounding, and lets Ben unceremoniously lift her from the dresser top and carry her to a low half-couch on the other end of the shed. The string lights over there are mostly blue instead of mixed, making everything about the scenario feel new and strange in Rey’s altered state of consciousness.

She finds she doesn’t want to let go of him; clinging to him lets her touch more of him this way, lets her be part of him. When she can tell he’s about to set her down, Rey catches his lips with her own. He matches her and groans when shifts her weight against him. She likes that noise— she wants to hear it again.

Ben tears away then, though, and throws her on the couch. Rey giggles a little when he gets down on top of her— that is, until his hands slip up her skirt and find the waistband of her panties to gently pull them down.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, and settles himself down into the vulnerable cradle of her open legs, coming up to her face to kiss across her jaw. “It’s okay.” Then he reaches her mouth, kissing her deep and with thought-melting intensity. She believes him.

Ben’s fingers find the same place on her as before, except it’s just his skin on hers now. When they first make contact, Rey flinches. It’s strange and unbelievably sensitive— almost too much for her to bear when he first starts moving. She whimpers in sad little bursts into his mouth when it’s too much, but doesn’t tell him to stop. At some point it stops being too much, though, and soon Rey is so overwhelmed with the feeling and the desperate need for more of it that she starts forgetting to kiss Ben back. He lifts his mouth from hers and watches.

She blushes, knowing he’s seeing and feeling everything.

“Have you ever used your fingers on yourself?” He slows down a little, his brown eyes are dark and molten and perfectly genuine. She trusts him.

“…Yeah.”

“Inside?”

Rey doesn’t respond. She’s incredibly inexperienced— even just with herself— and can’t get herself to admit that to him. The truth is that she’s never really cared about this stuff, not until recently. Not until she met him.

He hears her non-answer in the quiet. “Will you let me?”

Rey takes a moment to watch his eyes, then nods silently. _Please._

Wordlessly, he lowers his mouth to hers again and kisses her, slow and burning. His fingers gently finds her entrance, then, carefully but with force, he sinks into her with one of them.

Rey chokes off a tiny moan, and Ben lifts his lips from hers. It hurts a little, but that’s not what she’s reacting to. Her eyes squeeze shut involuntarily and her jaw drops open in surprise as he keeps going. The filling sensation is unlike anything she’s felt. Again, it’s almost too much. Rey bites down a whine and only half succeeds. If this is just one finger… what is sex like?

Ben makes an indistinguishable noise and she badly wants to know what he’s feeling, but she’s too afraid to open her eyes and look at him. She doesn’t know if could she handle seeing him, or rather if she could handle seeing him seeing her. Ben draws back his finger, and it somehow feels just as good as it did going in. Rey finally realizes why sex is such a big deal to everyone.

When Ben pushes back in this time, it’s less careful. Rey literally can’t control the quiet sob that it draws from her. It’s such a pathetic sound, especially when she knows how little he’s actually doing. It’s just… it’s just so unlike anything she’s felt before, and it’s _him_ doing it to her. Rey tightens herself around him unconsciously, desperately, tightly. She hears his breath shift; it’s enough to get her to open her eyes this time. She barely gets a look at him before his mouth descends back on hers, hard and fervent and devotional.

Ben pushes inside her again, this time less gently— and, without meaning to, she thinks, he rolls hips a fraction against her as he does. He works a tortuous rhythm that Rey gets lost in. Every time she thinks she’ll be able to adjust and relax for a second, it intensifies and all Rey can do is feed him pathetic noises and writhe beneath him. Rey legitimately thinks she might start crying, it feels so good— good, but scarily uncontrollable and intense. She nearly does when Ben adds a second finger without warning.

She feels so full that it hurts. It hurts, but that somehow feels the best of all— it makes it all feel better. He makes it all feel better. His fingers, the pressure of his body draped over hers, the words he’s murmuring in her ear. She wonders what he would _really_ feel like inside her. What it would feel like to take all of him. The thought triggers something unstoppable.

“Ben, I—” He gently tilts her jaw toward him and makes a strained soothing noise. Something shifts and spikes and she realizes he’s begun to curl his fingers inside of her. She whines low and long and, without meaning to, starts babbling in unintelligible swear and pleads, using his name over and over.

Rey has never felt this before. She knows what’s happening, but it’s not like anything she could’ve imagined. It's overwhelming. She vaguely registers Ben saying something soft and comforting in a deep, broken voice, but all that exists for a good ten seconds is an overwhelming roaring sensation in her ears, her mind, her body. It feels like someone is exorcising a demon from her. Powerful. Afterwards, everything feels suddenly lighter and clearer.

She’s still breathing pretty hard when she opens her eyes, but so is he. She looks at him with vague wonder.

“Wow,” she says, her voice cracking a little. _Idiot. ‘Wow?’_ She swallows. “You’re, uh. You’re good at that. Thank you.” _‘Thank you?’ Fucking hell._

He smiles, but it's almost wry. “You don’t have to— just don’t.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

Rey wonders if she should be worried. His long hair swings down in his face, casting shadows that obscure his full expression. She can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Rey bites her lip, carefully bringing her hands to his broad shoulders. “Can I…?”

She wants him to fill it in for her, to say ‘ _yes, Rey, please, touch me, I’ll let you, I’ll show you, I want you, I need you, I trust you, let me show you,’_ but he doesn’t, and instead her sentence trails off into nothing.

He doesn’t answer right away, but off-handedly brushes escaped bun hair from her face with a slightly shaky hand as though he was distracted by it. The simple gesture sends a shot of unexpected warmth through her. _This is bad. This is so bad. This is going to be messy for me, no matter what happens now._

She cares too much. Rey sees that. But… this could be salvageable, she thinks. She’s seen plenty of romantic comedies in which people who hate each other hook up without issue. And people do this sort of thing with their friends all the time, don’t they? She can just compartmentalize, since that’s clearly what he’s doing. She tries to ignore how fucking sad the idea makes her feel. She doesn’t ignore the anger, though— all of this is his fault. His.

Rey pulls Ben down to her mouth and slides her knees up around either side of his hips, using the grip to lead him into resting his full weight into the cradle of her thighs. Pulling him closer forces him lower and flatter against her, too, pinning her entirely underneath him. He groans when they make full contact and it might be the most erotic thing Rey has ever heard.

With only that, her heart is racing at full speed again and every other part of her freshly desperate for him. His kisses grow raw and unhinged, his mouth feverish and indecent on hers. Rey feels the hard impression of what she realizes is his erection pressing against her and it makes her breath catch. She arches into him on instinct, desperate to be as close to him as she can.

This unlocks something, because Ben groans immediately and grinds down into her with bruising force. He does it again, losing his ability to properly kiss her and instead breathing raggedly into her neck. Rey is breathless and practically trembling under him, winding a hand into his thick, damp hair. The friction of his jeans is rough and forceful between her legs and threatens to make her cry from want of release.

She holds on and kisses the closest part of him she can get to— his neck. She takes a lick of his skin— he tastes like salt and chlorine and Ben and it’s intoxicating. Ben makes an involuntary pained noise into her ear and she shivers.

“Ben,” she says softly, and he lifts up to look at her. Rey knows she must look like a total mess, but so does he. She notices the pulse pounding in his throat, the dangerous glassiness to his eyes, the sweat on his brow, and something palpably intense behind it all that she can’t identify.

He smiles at her then and is about to respond when the door to the pool shed flings open, throwing ambient light from the backyard like a spotlight on the two of them. Luckily, Rey appears clothed from the door’s perspective. Unluckily, she is lying on a couch with Ben Solo on top of her between her thighs in a very non-platonic manner. She lets go of him.

“By god,” a voice drawls. “Look at _this_.”

_Oh god._ It’s Armie.

Rey shoots a panicked look at Ben, who doesn’t move, only rearranges his face.

“Hux,” he acknowledges with flat calm and clarity. It’s so absurd that Rey has to stifle a panicky laugh.

“I was just coming by to let everyone know that someone called the cops and that they’re on their way. You know, just as a favor to all my fellow classmates. But I regret that now. Because this is disgusting and should be illegal.”

Rey starts to scoot herself into a more dignified position, which Ben helps with by shifting until they’re both sitting up. She feels deadly light-headed.

“Are you gonna tell on us, then, _Armie?”_ Ben asks. They all know what he’s really asking.

_Are you going to keep your mouth shut?_

“I— I don’t—” Armie scowls and turns it around on them, indignant. “What even is this?” He gestures between Ben and Rey, genuinely disgusted. “Not that I _care,_ mind you,but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two speak! Not at school, not in group, not...” He tilts his head, trying to remember. “No… not even in group.Not even…. not even…. _once_.” He slows down at the end, eyes narrowing as though realizing the presence of some bigger picture. Curiosity replaces disgust. Dawning. “Wait. What’s going on? How long? Why…?”

“Shouldn’t you be running from the police, Hux?” Ben clips.

“No, I don’t care. I’m sober and this isn’t my house. Now tell me.”

“Or what?” Ben laughs.

“Or else I tell.”

“Come on, Armitage, be specific in your language,” Ben bites. It’s something Dr. Holdo says to them often. “Or else you’ll tell what to who?”

Rey is starting to wonder if Ben’s intimidation approach might backfire.

“Fuck you, Solo. _Or else I tell Holdo and the others about this!_ ”

“Woah! Woah, guys. None of this is necessary,” Rey interrupts. She glances at Ben to preemptively shut him up. “Listen. Armie. I like you. We’ve never had a problem with each other before, have we? We’d— _I’d_ really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about this to the group. Can you do that? Please?”

He sighs and does his best to look like he’s thinking. He’ll agree, she knows it. Ben’s intimidation worked on some level, but Armie is too proud to back down without another option. Rey simply offered that option— a high road to take to keep him out of trouble while also keeping his tough guy credit. _Sometimes you’ve just got to ask nicely._

“Okay,” he says, crossing his arms. “But I still want to know whatever’s been going on here.”

_Don’t ask me, Armie, I don’t fucking know._

“So… you'll agree if we tell you? Deal?”

He shrugs. “Deal.”

“He could’ve asked for anything,” Ben mutters to her, a smirk in his voice. The casual affectionate familiarity in his voice for her somehow makes her heart soar and break at the same time. “Dumbass.” She covers her smile with a hand. “I’ll talk to him.”

Ben is up and halfway to the door before Rey can respond or ask questions. He pulls Armie with him on his way out to the yard, leaving Rey sitting alone in the shed, a bit shell-shocked.

It’s the first quiet moment she’s had in hours. Unwilling to reflect, she uses the time to pull her cell phone of her boot and check it— three missed calls and fourteen missed texts. Still in a daze, she scans everything. Almost all of them are about the cops and who’s going where with who, now. Rose’s was the most recent:

hey i tried to call you so listen to my voicemail but basically finn and i

ubered out like 5 min ago. you can go to my place, you know where the 

key is but i’m gonna be out with finn for a while. if you’d rather go home,

that’s fine too, just let me know you’re okay! xx

Rey listens to the voicemail— it says the same thing, but she had to check. She really doesn’t want to go back to Rose’s house without Rose. And she doesn’t want to go home. She stares at the lights on the wall and wonders if she can just live here.

“Hey.” Rey whirls around, unsure of how long she was staring at nothing. Ben in the doorway, slowly approaching. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“My house.” He stops right in front of her, his voice so perfectly gentle— no louder than it needs to be just for her to hear it.

She loves his weirdly soft qualities when they decide to show themselves. She wishes she could scrapbook them.

But… _his house?_ Rey can’t believe the situation she’s in all over again. Everything has felt like a hallucination since she got here, even more so now that she’s sobering up slightly. The questions remain: what is Ben Solo doing? Can she trust it? Does it matter, if she can’t resist?

No. She could resist. If she’s honest with herself, she could. She’s just choosing not to.

“How far?” she asks, like it matters.

“It’s next door.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s how I know Phasma.”

It makes sense, she guesses, that Ben would be childhood friends with his next-door neighbor. But really now she’s thinking of Rose, Finn, even Poe, and what she should do.

“I—”

“You don’t need the rest of them,” he insists softly, as though reading her mind. It’s an interesting thing say, she realizes. She watches his face. He’s calm, but in that curious carefully-curated kind of way she’s been beginning to be able to identify. As of now, though, whatever’s under it, she can only guess. “It’s okay. Come with me, Rey.”

Her name in his mouth makes her blush. She wants to go with him, but there are people waiting up for her, people who would probably be horrified to know any of this happened. It’s like deciding whether or not to wake up from a weird dream, whether or not to tell others about it.

His presence is massive but calming. She doesn’t get any physical cues from him, but she still senses sharp sadness radiating through the space between them. Maybe it’s all just coming from her, though. Still, she senses a chord of desperation that is unfamiliar, one that she can’t claim as hers. But she’s desperate, too, isn’t she? Rey can’t imagine wrenching herself away from him. It feels right to be beside him, the way it did at the fair.

Ben reaches for her hand at her side. She lets him take it. He laces their fingers together and wordlessly guides them from the shed, through the empty yard, the abandoned house, and then to the dark and quiet street outside. Everyone is long gone. Thick fog wraps every street lamp in sight. Rey knows it’s insane, but she knows her decision. She’ll just text everyone she went home so that she can stay here. So she can let Ben Solo disappoint her one more time. She can’t find it in herself to do anything else.

Ben keeps her hand gently in his as they walk directly to the house on Phasma’s left; he wasn’t kidding when he said ‘next door.’ He doesn’t let go even as he digs one-handed for his key in his jeans pocket. It’s cold outside in their wet clothes so Rey presses up against his side as he searches, hugging his big arm like a koala on a tree for warmth. She’s not shy about it anymore, at least not now. There’s no point. She peeks up and sees him suppressing a smile.

“I have dry clothes,” he assures her.

“Mm,” Rey enthuses, deciding to rest her eyes for a moment, head on his shoulder. She had so many questions she wants to ask him, but none of them are worth asking if they risk losing her only piece of him at all. Still, her questions swim around her head, dancing with the things she wishes she could tell him. Dancing and swimming.

Ben finds his key, opens the lock, and pulls them both inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you survived the long ass chapter! i’ve been trying to keep them reasonable lengths because i totally tend to overwrite, but sometimes it just happens and i let it. i hope you found it worth it!
> 
> also yes, they find their way together in chapter 4 but listen guys the fic ain’t over til chapter 9 sings
> 
> this chapter's VIBE(S) ✔️: “Fuck Em Only We Know” by BANKS, “Be Mine” by Amandla Stenberg
> 
> [I have an [actual playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ) if you're freaky like that]


	5. hard to sleep when your body's in arm's reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben wants to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: vague implications/references to physical/sexual abuse

When Ben returns upstairs, Rey is asleep.

He drops his pile of towels and dry clothes onto his desk and laughs. They _just_ got here. He was only gone for a minute, maybe less. But she's there, unconscious, curled up on her side with her shoes still on and everything.

“Rey,” he half-whispers, edging forward. She doesn’t stir. Standing over her, he tries again. “Rey?” Still nothing.

Something very quiet inside him settles, exhales.

His muscles relax, the tension in his chest loosens. It’s just him and Rey now. No one is watching them. No one is watching _him,_ not even her— especially not her.

The baby hairs framing her face have spiraled out of control. Her mouth hangs slightly open. The makeup on her eyes has smudged into the tiny creases in the corners.

Ben stares in open awe, having been left alone to do so in the safety of the quiet. His head spins.

He’s not sure how this happened. He’s not sure how he allowed it to happen, what came over him— what came over _her_. He’s not sure what to do now.

Will she be angry with him when she wakes? What if she’s embarrassed? What if she regrets it? What if she hates him all over again?

Ben swallows and touches a wisp of hair on her cheek. _But what if she doesn’t?_

It’s surreal to see Rey like this. She’s sleeping soundly on _his_ bed, clutching _his_ covers in _his_ place, his domain. She fits perfectly; she looks like she belongs. It fills Ben with an overflowing kind of feeling that he doesn’t have words for— it’s wonderful and aching.

Ben turns to the pile of clothes on the desk, grabs the sweater and pair of pajama pants he found for her downstairs, and lays them neatly on the ground beside the bed. If she wakes, hopefully she’ll spot them and know they’re for her. He considers untying her shoes and taking them off but decides against it. It’s better not to touch her at all.

In a daze, Ben turns off the main light, tugs on the dry clothes he brought for himself, and gets onto the opposite side of the bed. He stays as far away from her as the space allows.

On his back, he turns his head to watch Rey’s chest rise and fall in deep breaths for far too long. He aches to pull her into him, to envelop her, to feel her head tucked safe under his chin. It’s like an animal urge, strong and completely separate from logic or reason. It's intense, unfamiliar, unsettling. His stomach does an uncomfortable flip, and he turns away.

What the fuck is he doing? Why did he bring her here?

_You know why, you hopeless fucking dumbass._

A quieter thought glimmers dangerously from behind all the crowded ones.

_Maybe…_ Maybe he can stop. Maybe he doesn’t have to keep on hating her.

Maybe it might be safe to let go now.

He pushed _so_ hard in the beginning— he could not entertain the possibility of her rejection. It would have shattered him. Why exactly, he couldn’t say, but Ben knew that he just couldn’t bear the idea of having to _watch_ Rey come to see him the way all the rest do. So he elected instead not to see her at all.

Ben knows his own damage. He knows what others think, too, even if he walks around like it doesn’t faze him. The fact of the matter is that everyone— his mom, dad, uncle, teachers, therapists, peers, even his friends— they’re all afraid of him. It’s something he’s never been allowed to forget. Even when they say they aren’t afraid, they all fucking are to some degree. He knows he shouldn’t blame them for it, but he does. He blames them.

He’s the disappointment of his family, the psycho of the school, the king of the deadbeats. He’s unstable, a liability, a loser, and allowing Rey to discover this from a distance meant there would be no cord for her to cut. 

But she knows now, doesn’t she?

He doesn’t know how much of it she knows, but it’s safe to bet by this point that it’s a lot. Most of the school knows about his worst— or at least most public— incidents; it’s never been a secret. Everyone knows to keep a safe distance from Ben Solo. Everyone knows about what happened with his father, about the arrests, the anger, the violent tendencies since grade school. His general reputation, his friends’ reputations, and the fact that he’s seen a million shrinks are common knowledge. Which means it’s her common knowledge by now, too. 

He did what he meant to do. She knows what she was always going to inevitably know. And she’s still here.  


Why is she still here?

Ben turns on his side to face her and, in bright flashes, remembers kissing her— remembers everything that happened in the pool shed like a fever dream. Except in this dream, he can perfectly recall everything in exquisite detail.

He thinks he might’ve been possessed at that party. He doesn’t know that he can even trust that any of it was real.

Ben saw Vic flirting with her before any of them saw him from across the yard. He recognized Rey from the back of her head, and despite having been thrown into an unheated pool just moments before, Ben’s blood went hot at the sight of them. His skin burned, his thoughts turned into angry static, and the booze he’d started drinking way too early in the night carried him forward without hesitation.

He had been so charged with determination that he hadn’t had the room to doubt himself until he was standing right there in front of her. He’d made it that far, and when her eyes fell cold on him, he barely managed to keep it together— only with the strength of the alcohol-fueled fire in his gut was he able to continue. Luckily he’d drank enough for the liquor to seep straight into the core of him— into the part that he usually, actively suffocates every day, the part that screams ceaselessly for what it wants but can’t have. He offered his hand and, wonderingly, she took it.

He doesn’t understand why she did it, but she did. Not only that, but she let him lead her, let him take her away all to himself, let him kiss her, let him touch her. Ben thinks he could probably die happy now, if it truly was real. Ben knows what her skin feels like now. He knows how soft it is, especially in places usually hidden to the world. He knows how her body reacts to different touches, to the different transference of pressure between their lips. He knows how she sounds when she can’t form the words to beg, and what she sounds like when she does. The way she pulled him closer, the desperation in her short breaths, her flushed face, the helpless whines in his ear as he nearly lost all control moving against her… He almost lost his mind when the door burst open— it took him a second to even realize what had happened. It was like he was under a spell.

Hux broke it. Ben was the one to talk to him, in the end— he took them outside the shed where Rey wouldn’t hear them and spoke to him one-on-one. It was unpleasant, but at least now Hux wouldn’t be an issue. He made sure of it.

Ben went back into the shed to find Rey again, and the second he laid eyes on her standing there, idly frowning at her phone, he had a heart-clenching _“oh”_ moment. You could say it was booze or hormones or wild fantasy, sure, but Ben knew in his gut that it was her. Just her.

He isn’t sure what he would’ve done if she hadn’t agreed to come back with him. He probably would have begged if he had to. He would’ve gotten down on his fucking knees and begged her to stay. He would’ve done anything— _anything_ so that she wouldn’t leave him alone.

He was weak, and still is. He loves her.

It feels obvious now. It wasn’t before, but now it is. Painful and obvious.

Because in that moment, ducking back into that shed, the world just felt different. It was like the night had come to a standstill and slid into an alternate universe, one where nothing outside of them mattered or even existed anymore. Her lovely face had lifted to his and Ben could no longer pretend. If she had left— if she had rejected him— it would’ve been like sending him spinning out into cold dark space to freeze to death. Alone.

Ben had never had a problem with being alone before. It was his default. He had been alone his entire life and got along fine that way. He’d survived. It never occurred to him to want anything different— but knowing Rey has ruined that. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore if she’s in the world. He can't be.

He wishes he could be angry at her for the pain of it but he honestly couldn’t be if he tried.

Ben reaches an arm across the bed as though to touch her, stopping just before their skin makes contact.

He knows Rey. He felt like he knew her from the first time they met, but it's different now. She exists to him on another level. He listens to her in group, watches her listen to others, can translate her reactions. He’s catalogued all her little facial expressions and knows whether she does or doesn’t like something based on practically nothing, based on a little quirk or a change in posture. Inexplicably, most of the time it’s just an energy, an intuition, a feeling— a feeling that is right every time.

He understands her— at least more than anyone in their group, more than anyone in their class. He knows this to his core, even if he keeps quiet about it. And he knows that even _she_ thinks her own friends don’t get her, and that her brother is loving but projects too much of his own baggage onto her to see her clearly for who she is. Ben does, though. He sees her. 

He knows the ways in which the world has hurt her, and the things she needs to believe to cope with them. He knows what she’s sensitive about, which topics have healed and which ones haven’t. Her trauma, her strengths, her hopes, her family, her fears— all of it, Ben carries with him secretly. He keeps it safe in a sore but sacred corner of himself as though it were his own to carry and protect.

He feels like it is. He wants it to be.

The thought occurs again: _Maybe you can stop. You could stop pretending._

Ben reaches for the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and, after gently tugging it from under Rey’s feet, drapes it over her, holding his breath. She stirs and gathers it closer to her, but doesn’t wake.

_Maybe,_ he tells himself. _Maybe._

He closes his eyes, arm still outstretched, and lets himself be soothed by the rhythm of their combined breath.

In his dreams, Ben is weightless above the earth, looking down at the lights of his city. They flow like veins to a heart at the center. It is beautiful and terrifying; it’s an astonishing view, but it means he’s impossibly far away from home with no way to get down. There are people down there, he somehow knows— people he vaguely remembers who want him to come back. He doesn’t see anyone, though. He doesn’t hear them. No one has come for him. He can’t remember their names or faces.

This is when it comes, Ben knows. Even in his dream, his throat tightens. His subconscious knows what to expect— this is when the deep, sickeningly sweet graveled voice comes, then the nausea, then the cold, thin hands pulling him so far away that he loses sight of the earth completely.

But it doesn’t happen this time. Instead, the lights of the city below lose their flatness and start to glimmer more hopefully. He hears faint earth-noises, feels cool wind as he slowly descends further into the atmosphere. Gravity starts settling weight back into his limbs, strange but grounding. The sun crests the edge of the earth, cutting through the black of space and thawing the cold he hadn’t noticed settled deep in his bones. The light illuminates a small shape he’s never noticed before far off to his right. Something… Someone else. Alone, very far away, is a girl, floating.

Ben wakes softly— no jolting or sweating or sick feeling. He simply opens his eyes from the deep, calm black and calmly puzzles together the world around him.

He’s home, that’s good. The light at the window tells him that the sun hasn’t risen but is about to. He’s in soft clothes, which means he didn’t get _that_ trashed last night and pass out in his jeans. The biggest element to adjust to is the body beside him.

Rey. She’s still asleep, but in an entirely new position than what Ben remembers last. Both of them face each other on their sides, their ankles tangled together and her head tucked snugly under his chin. His bent bottom arm has become her pillow while the top drapes over her protectively.

Ben gawks at his arm, at its nerve, and Rey underneath it. Holy fuck.

He remembers everything from the previous night in a blinding instant.

Her dress is still damp, her boots are still on, her makeup is smudged, and her hair is a tangled mess. Somehow, it only makes her prettier. More precious. Selfishly, Ben traces his hand down spine and draws her a little closer.

She moves then, and Ben freezes, prepared to throw himself into a wild torrent of apologies. But, still asleep, Rey only makes a contented noise, slides her arm up from between them, and settles it around his neck. He holds his breath, sure that his heart is going to explode in his chest if he moves an inch.

He lies there in the warm and perfect surreal silence for what feels like ten or twenty dreamlike minutes— but then reality fights its way back through the fog, and he starts getting nervous. What happens when she wakes up? Will she remember? Will she be horrified? Angry? Will she shrink from his touch? Will she blame him, resent him? Will anything change between them at all?

Ben doesn’t hate her, and no longer wants to try to. But the damage may already be permanently done. They hooked up, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He couldn’t possibly expect her to forgive and forget everything he’s said and done and fall madly in love with him after one fumbling orgasm. Not after the way he’s treated her, not after the disgust for him he’s seen in her eyes. She was drunk and up for the challenge of the brooding school asshole; he was drunk and choking down the urge to fall at her feet and beg her to love him. They’re not the same.

Regardless. He will stop giving her reasons to stay away. He won’t do it anymore. Last night it occurred to him that he could change, and so he will. He can’t pretend anymore, can’t hurt her anymore. This all started out being about him, about protecting himself— but that doesn’t matter now. She’s more important. Her feelings matter more than his pride, even if she goes on hating him.

He gently extricates himself from her limbs and gets out of bed, hating every second.

He keeps himself occupied by going about his usual routine— showering, brushing his teeth, shaving— all as quietly as possible. He finds towels, extra toiletries under the sink, and a new toothbrush from a forgotten cupboard, and leaves them out in case Rey needs them. The longer she sleeps, the more time Ben has to get nervous about her waking. He runs out of things to do quick, and it starts to become unbearable.

The sky has lightened and soft rain has started to fall outside when Ben, sitting at the kitchen counter downstairs, hears movement from above.

_Oh god,_ he thinks with immediate, leaping hope. _Oh god,_ he thinks again with sinking, nauseating dread.

Soft creaking from the stairs betray her silent feet. Ben looks up, trying not to look as anxious as he feels. She’s there near the top of the landing, staring down at him with an impressive lack of expression.

“Hi.” His voice cracks a bit.

“Hi,” she returns blankly, feet firmly planted to her spot of ground.

He arranges his own features into their usual neutral state, but his insides won’t follow suit. They won’t arrange in any fashion— not a single thought appears in his head to feed his mouth. The hum of the refrigerator grows louder.

“Are you going to group?” she asks finally.

_Oh shit. Group._

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Are you?”

Rey shifts her weight uncomfortably, and Ben realizes why she’s asking.

“I can take you,” he adds quickly. “I’ll take you.”

She knits her fingers together and looks down at them. It hides her face, but Ben thinks he sees the ghost of a smile. It’s gone when she faces him again.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Ben echoes quietly.

Rey fidgets and worries her palm in the strange silence, then looks vaguely up towards the second floor. “Uh, can I…?”

“Yes,” Ben says as he stands up, anticipating her question. “Go ahead. Use whatever.” 

“Thanks,” she says, giving a real half-smile before turning back up the stairs.

Ben paces for twenty full minutes before he finally forces himself to do something constructive and makes some toast. He can hear the water in the pipes and all he can think of is Rey in his shower, using his shampoo, his toothpaste, his everything. She is _awake_ , inside his house, and they’re alone and _speaking._

When she comes back down, the first thing Ben notices is her hair— wet, and hanging down around her shoulders. He hasn’t ever actually seen it down before, he realizes. It’s always either in buns or half tied back. The remainder of her makeup has been washed away, leaving her face bare and even younger-looking than usual. She’s still wearing her dress, but has the black sweater Ben left for her pulled over top of it. It’s so big on her that it nearly swallows the hem of her dress, leaving barely enough to show the world she’s wearing something underneath.

“Can I borrow this?” she asks when Ben doesn’t talk first.

_You can keep it,_ he thinks with a lump in his throat, but just nods. “Yeah, sure.”

He won’t mention that it’s one of his favorites, that he gave her that one on purpose.

Rey comes around to the other side of the counter and grabs a piece of toast from the plate between them.

“Thanks. So… where is everyone?”

“What?” he laughs.

She shrugs at the kitchen, taking a bite.

_Oh. Right._ Most teenagers live with their families. His smile fades.

“Oh, yeah… I live with my uncle, but he stays at his shop a lot of the time.”

Rey’s brow furrows like this displeases her. “Really?”

“Really,” Ben snaps, and immediately regrets it. Reflex.

“Sorry,” Rey says sharply. “I forgot. I won’t ask questions.”

She shoves her last big bite of toast into her mouth and chews it viciously, like she wants to be done with it and the conversation.

Ben’s stomach lurches. “No, wait.”

The look she gives him is hard, but a lifted eyebrow indicates she’s listening.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ Ben swallows.

“Well, my uncle is really cool,” he starts lamely, putting the toast plate in the sink. “And he’s not actually my uncle, but he basically is. He leaves me alone for the most part, which nobody else ever knew how to do.” Ben looks around the kitchen, at the lack of family influence. No photos. No magnets. No notes. “He doesn’t do it all the time, but… we have a system. After a lot of family therapy they all decided I needed a hands-off approach. It was meant to be one of my parents, but…” He stops, swerves the topic. “But after everything, it was Chewie who stepped up. So, yeah. He’s not here a lot, but it works for us. And I’m not a minor anymore, anyway. I don’t really need a guardian. I’m fine here.”

Rey stares. “Ben, you’re in high school.”

“Yeah, but… but it’s not a normal situation. I’m not normal.”

Rey presses her lips together, jaw tense, then exhales. “Alright then.”

Affronted silence.

"Rey," Ben prompts.

"What?"

“I can tell you want to say something.”

She shoots him an annoyed, defensive scowl. “Yeah? How is that?”

Ben can’t help it, he breaks into a smile and laughs. She frowns.

_She has no idea._ “Nevermind.”

She huffs. “You’re so confusing. It’s impossible.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

The level of alarm and distrust in Rey’s eyes at this admission is almost comical— almost. It might’ve been, if not for proving to him the damage he’s already done. Instead it stings.

Ben checks the clock on the oven. They should leave soon.

“Are you ready?”

Rey nods, eyes wary.

He hesitates at the sight of her purple knees. “Are you cold? Do you want pants?”

She snorts. “Thanks, but yours didn’t fit. I’m okay.”

Ben yanks a knit blanket from the couch and thrusts it at her. “For the car.”

Ten minutes into the journey, Ben can’t take it anymore.

“What is it?” he asks, eyes on the road. 

She’s been turning towards and away from him every thirty seconds like she’s going to say something but keeps changing her mind.

“Nothing,” Rey says quickly.

“Are you sure?”

A sigh. “So I’m allowed to talk to you? To ask you questions, then?”

He ignores the sarcasm laced into the words. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Is that your first question?”

“Oh, fuck off,” she moans, and he grins. “Am I allowed to or not?”

“Yes, yes, sorry.”

They hit a stop light, and Rey uses the pause to think. He doesn’t pressure her.

Finally she asks after a nervous breath, “What happened last night?”

Ben’s blood goes cold in a single sickening second.

No. No, she _has_ to remember. She has to.

“What do you mean?” he asks calmly, as though the question didn’t just cause his life to flash before his very eyes.

Each second of silence is hell. She crosses and uncrosses her legs under the blanket in the passenger seat and looks out at the drizzly morning, face turned from view.

“I don’t know, Ben,” she says defeatedly, voice quiet and tight in her throat. “Nevermind.”

Once again like a man possessed, Ben yanks the steering wheel and swings them off the road and sharply into a random parking lot. He stops, puts the car safely in park, then turns to look directly at her.

She blinks at him in surprise.

“What do you remember?” he demands. He has to know. She starts to shake her head, but he won’t allow it. “No— tell me what you remember."

The sound of light rain on the roof of the car and the purr of the heating system inside grows louder and louder in his ears with every passing second.

“ _Rey_.”

“Everything,” she says finally. “I remember all of it.”

Ben’s eyes flutter closed in relief. “Then _why_ did you ask me that?”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole,” she says miserably.

Ben sits back. _Oh._

He doesn’t know what to say. She wants to know ‘what happened?’ The truth of ‘what happened’ is that his drunk, pathetic ass snapped in a _spectacular_ fashion last night and it just so happened to go right. He can’t say that, though.

“I don’t know,” The old car’s idling engine rumbles ominously beneath them. He gathers his courage, running a nervous hand through his hair. “But… but will you just tell me…” After a pause, he sighs and drops the hand into his lap. “Will you tell me if I have anything to be sorry for?”

He can’t bring himself to look at her. He won’t. He refuses. But…

But he does anyway. There’s a rare look on her face— one he hasn’t yet catalogued.

“No,” she says softly and with some surprise, “you don’t.” She looks away and tugs down the sleeves of his sweater to engulf her hands. “…Do I?”

“No.” He manages to suppress the absurd laugh rising in his throat, though. In no world would Rey Niima have to be sorry to him for absolutely anything.

“Well… good, then,” she says primly, looking pointedly out the window at something far away. She rests her chin in her hand for good measure.

“Good,” Ben agrees, his voice somehow perfectly balanced despite his world splitting open beneath his very feet. And with that, he reverses out of their parking spot and heads back towards the street.

Kaydel has been talking for twenty minutes straight. Even Rey seems to be zoning out at this point, despite having been active in the discussion for the first ten. She keeps fiddling with her sleeves, leaving Ben to wonder why she doesn’t just roll them up. He rather likes the way his sweater swamps her, or maybe just the fact that she’s wearing it. She looks cute— small and warm and cute bundled inside of it. It fills him with a prideful short of satisfaction he knows he hasn’t earned.

Not for the first time that day, Ben feels Hux’s gaze darting between him and Rey.

It would be an understatement to say it's getting on Ben’s nerves. He never particularly liked the guy to begin with, but knowing that Hux _knows_ is making things infinitely worse. He single-handedly took the one thing most sensitive and personal to Ben and turned into a spectator sport overnight, and he hates it. Ben just wants to stare at Rey in peace without the ginger rat taking fucking notes.

“It’s not that simple,” he’s surprised to hear Tallie interrupt the group conversation out of the blue.

Ben looks over, curious. She’s visibly angry— a sharp departure from her usual haughty indifference. He lost track of what they were talking about ages ago, but tries to catch up.

“What do you mean?” Dr. Holdo asks calmly, straddling the line between gentle and patronizing.

“Not everyone deserves to be forgiven.” 

This gets Ben’s full attention.

Dr. Holdo inclines her head. “You’re not wrong.”

“Then why are we even talking about this?”

“Because it came up,” the doctor supplies, smiling comfortingly at a nervous-looking Kaydel. “And because no, not everyone deserves to be forgiven,” she restates, “but sometimes we still deserve the relief of forgiving.”

“You realize you’re talking to a bunch of abused, traumatized teenagers, right?” Tallie demands with a hard edge.

“Tallie—” Beau murmurs.

“Because I’m not forgiving shit. And I suggest all of you do the same.”

Dr. Holdo doesn’t react. “Why is that?”

“Because there’s no ‘relief!’ It’s bullshit! Any chance of that was taken away when— when—” She sighs in frustration. “You know, this mindfulness stuff is really useful when you’re stressed out or anxious or whatever, but— but this hippy dippy ‘forgive everyone and your soul will heal’ stuff is fucked up, okay? If I gave my forgiveness to every person that’s ever hurt me, I’d have to give so much that, by the end of it, there’d be none of me left.”

Ben has gone very still.

“Hm. It sounds like the hurt you’ve suffered has made the idea of forgiveness feel… unsafe. Weakening. Subtractive,” Dr. Holdo summarizes in that terrifying way she does. Too calm to be fair. “Does that sound right? Does your anger make you feel safer, Tallie?”

Tallie’s eyes burn. “Great question— and the answer is _no_. No, because _nothing_ can do that anymore, _Dr. Holdo._ ” The name smacks of savage, mocking venom.

A long pause. The tension is palpable, waiting to snap.

“Maybe it makes you feel stronger?” Rey offers suddenly, stepping right in the middle of it. She acts as though she’s oblivious to the energy she’s interrupting, but Ben knows she knows exactly what she’s doing. “For me, at least— not really safer.”

She’s a better person than he is, voluntarily tossing herself up like that to help diffuse things. Dr. Holdo looks grateful, even as she struggles to collect herself and save face.

He admires Rey’s selflessness, always has. He’s constantly noticing it. It’s times like these that he feels sore with his own lack of it.

Suddenly those wide hazel eyes flicker to his across the table in the tense silence and something twists in his chest.

“It’s both,” Ben hears himself say.

Every head in the room turns at the same time.

“Ben,” Dr. Holdo says in surprise.

He plows forward and just says what he’s thinking. “I mean, I don’t think _I_ could keep going if I wasn’t, you know… angry.”

That was all he meant to say— more than he meant to, if anything— but when he looks around, he realizes they’re all waiting for him to continue.

“Uh, I just… I think sometimes the need for it is stronger than the want to let it go.”

“And do you, Ben? Want to let it go?” asks the doctor.

Ben shifts uncomfortably and forces himself to think about it. He has to fight the urge to say something rude or dismissive to get them to move on. He started this, after all.

“In theory, maybe. It’s not really an option, though. I don’t think you can forgive something that hasn’t really been resolved, that hasn’t ended.”

“But if it were resolved?”

A dark laugh. “I don’t like to get my hopes up.”

“I see,” Dr. Holdo nods, hesitates. “Is there a particular example of this you’d be comfortable sharing with us?”

Her voice treads very, very lightly. She knows it’s a stretch, and so does the rest of the group. He swears it's so dead silent that some of them must be holding their breath. Ben never talks like this, not really.

He glances at Tallie, who he’s glad to see looking less upset— even if only from the distraction of wanting to hear his response. He takes measure of Rey, too, from the corner of his eye. Her hands are all bunched up in the too-long sleeves of his sweater and her half-dry hair is starting to curl. She’s waiting. He can feel it.

“My parents,” he says. “They’re… well, my parents, so I… you know, I don't... uh...”

_Nope. This was a mistake._

His eyes flit around the table in a panic until they find Rey’s— they're steady, patient, clear.

Ben can't tell the rest of them. But he can tell her, if he has to. He can tell Rey.

“They... didn’t take my side when I needed them to,” he starts. She doesn’t look away. “They didn’t believe me about something… something really important. I was young. I spent years trying to deal with it myself, but I was a kid, and… and I just developed a lot of issues in the process. I was miserable and difficult and angry and they stepped back from me because of it. They couldn't figure me out, so they gave up.”

Rey remains his focus point, even as he addresses the room. She is unflinching.

“Since then, they found out— well, they realized they were wrong not to believe me. And I kind of blew up. They apologized... they felt really bad, I know they did. But I don’t think they can look at me the same way now, knowing what they did and the damage it caused. And I can’t look at them in any other way, because nothing has really changed. Their guilt, their _fear_... it keeps them as far away as they were before. I’m still as alone as before.”

Rey, gratefully, still holds his gaze even as some of the others around the table have to look away. He needs it.

“So forgiveness isn’t an option. It just isn't. Not when they’re too afraid and too ashamed to be near me, even after the apology. As long as I’m on my own, I’m going to be angry. I have to be.”

_The only other option is to_ _be heartbroken and hurt every second of every day, to feel it all, to remember the horrible things you did to cope, to admit that you share in the blame, to realize how much time you wasted hating the people who love you, to—_

“Thank you for sharing, Ben,” Dr. Holdo says quietly.

He turns and sees Kaydel and Beau nodding solemnly in agreement with the doctor.

“Great perspective. Does anyone else recognize some part of their own truth in it?”

“Yeah,” Tallie sighs. She doesn’t elaborate, but sends a tired smile in his direction.

Beau waves his hand a little in self-indication. “Same.”

Hux even gives a terse nod.

“This is good, this is important,” Dr. Holdo says, perking up. “I think this is a great opportunity to talk about how negative emotions can serve us. Does anyone want to take a stab at the differences between a ‘bad’ emotion being healthy or harmful?”

Ben checks out after this. He feels… really weird. He stares at the table and blocks out the conversation in an attempt to regroup and feel like a person on solid earth again. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

When he looks up, Rey is staring at him intensely with something like confused concern while doing that thing with her thumb in her palm. She freezes when their eyes meet, like he wasn’t supposed to see her. They both look away at the same time.

Dr. Holdo excuses everyone for the day and asks Ben to stay behind for a moment.

The rest of the group trickles out as Ben watches— Rey leaves without another look at him, which he isn’t sure how to interpret. It doesn’t feel great, though. The more he thinks about it, the worse it starts feeling. He fucked up, didn’t he?

“I was impressed with your participation today,” Dr. Holdo says when they’re alone.

“Thanks.”

“I hope you won’t find this offensive, but… why?”

“The topic inspired me,” he says flatly, not even trying to sound convincing.

Dr. Holdo sighs, drumming her fingers on the table. She doesn't mince words. “Your father will be here in a week.”

Ah, the real reason she’s pulled him aside. “Yeah.”

“Do you feel prepared?”

He shrugs indifferently, but his stomach twists. “I mean, I guess.”

She nods. “And have you been practicing your distress tolerance skills?”

Ben thinks to last night, of the shots he started taking with Kuruk and Vic at five o'clock in the afternoon. Of the dangerously reckless abandon he threw at Rey. “Yeah.”

Dr. Holdo makes him promise to be rational and patient in the coming days, and he does. It’ll likely be a broken promise.

Ben lumbers to the parking lot, where everyone has already left. Rey’s adoptive mom always picks her up, so he really has no right to be as disappointed as he is when she’s not there.

The rest of the day is agonizing. Ben is sure he made an irreparable mistake in confessing what he did directly to Rey like that. It was embarrassing, and it was unfair to her. It probably made her uncomfortable, and it certainly made him look desperate. She’ll think he’s overly attached after what happened at the party— which wouldn’t be so horrible if it weren’t completely true. In his eyes, Ben laid down an olive branch. An embarrassing and indirect one, but one all the same. Rey didn’t kick it away, but she hasn't picked it up, either.

Chewie is home when Ben returns, though, which both helps his mood and doesn’t. He’s being extra soft-footed around Ben in light of the impending Han Solo-sized elephant in the room, which means being constantly reminded of how little everyone trusts him to keep cool. It also means fancy grilled cheeses and pot roast and all his uncle’s other specialty home-cooked meals, so Ben isn’t too mad about it in the end. He wouldn’t say it, but he genuinely enjoys Chewie’s warm, quiet company.

He tells Cardo and the others to fuck off point blank when they come calling on Sunday. This is where being feared works in his favor, because they don’t give him shit for it or even ask why. Kuruk looks more than a little disgruntled by the order, but apparently chooses to bite his tongue. Ben takes note of it.

He submits his photography assignment online six minutes before the midnight cutoff. He took the photos a few days ago behind the old arcade downtown— the assignment was to choose a location and catch the essence of it with details. He chose the abandoned parking lot because he liked how haunted it felt. It was obviously alive once with people and traffic and colorful posters everywhere, but only traces remain. There were lots of little things to get interesting shots of— ancient ads on bulletin boards, peeling murals, old locks stuck on the fence. He’s quite proud of how the set turned out.

They finish uploading just in time, and the website lets him pass to the gallery of the rest of the class’s work.

Ben stops cold when he sees the photo set next to Rey’s icon.

A macro shot of long grass in golden light. Thick strips of shadow falling across a patch of little white flowers. The rust at the base of an industrial support beam. A cheerleader’s red hair ribbon about slip off of the metal bench above.

_Those are the bleachers._ Rey took her photos under the bleachers— in the _exact_ spot they smoked together the night of the fair.

Ben stares, dumbstruck. They’re beautiful photographs. Everything is so soft and shallow-focused. It looks like golden hour. They have a quality about them that feels like the cinematography of a period piece. ‘Good’ photography doesn’t have to be pretty, but every single one of her shots is. They feel delicate, lonely, bright. They feel... personal.

Ben slams his laptop shut.

She remembered their spot. She went back.

His mind loops in every direction, trying and failing to find a plausible explanation for it. She must’ve known he would see the photos among the other submissions. She must’ve known he’d recognize the place. It's where he first kissed her— it's not like he could ever forget. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it means anything… but Ben can’t help feeling that it does.

He dreams of freckles and red ribbons.

Rey is absent from Photography the next afternoon. It’s the first time she’s ever missed class.

It feels like a punishment.

Ben wishes he could zone out for the rest of the period, but Mr. Q is going through everyone’s submitted work and he finds himself unable to fight his own curiosity.

Most people’s photos are alright. A few people clearly didn’t care at all, which always provides an awkward lack of material for the class to discuss. He’s most impressed with Paige Tico’s set out of all the ones so far— she made a seamstress’s shop look downright magical in low light. It was probably the most unique concept out of all of them. He’s curious to know whether she used a filter for the subtle lens flares and debates asking, but, as always, ultimately swallows it down.

When they get to Ben’s photos, Mr. Q does most of the talking. He seems pleased enough with the work. A girl named Kacey comments that it's "scary." Paige challenges that and says that it feels abandoned, and that there’s a difference. Ben is surprised she paid enough attention to make the distinction.

The usual contributors give a few generically nice comments to Rey’s work when it’s her turn, even though she's not there. Mr. Q comments on how impressed he is at the romanticized stylization she achieved with so little and simple a subject. The class nods along. Ben wonders what they would all think if they knew the history behind the spot under the bleachers. If they knew the true meaning it holds for them.

Mr. Q announces the upcoming week’s assignment, and it takes everything in Ben not to groan out loud when he tells them they’ll have to partner up.

“This is my favorite project I assign every year— and I know I say that every time, but this time I really mean it.”

This gets a few half-hearted laughs.

“It’s about _perspective_. It shows us how differently we each see the world, and how wonderful that is.” Mr. Q turns to the whiteboard and starts writing. “Now. You and your partner will receive three random words drawn from a hat. You’ll each read the words, and then together you’ll decide on three separate locations. One for each word.”

“Three?” someone whines from the far corner.

“I’m giving you a full week to do this, Cal.”

Cal grumbles.

“Right then. You’ll share the words and the locations, but you’ll each take your own photos. You’ll interpret each word in your own way— without sharing your thoughts or plans with your partner— and then go to your location to shoot your seperate interpretations.”

“So… we shoot together, but we can’t talk about what we’re doing?” Paige asks.

“Correct, Miss Tico. We'll reveal the finished projects in class next week and compare what you came up with!” Mr. Q steps aside to reveal the words on the whiteboard.

_‘3 words, 3 locations, 6 photos total.’_

The silence in the room lends itself well in indicating the class’s level of comprehension.

“I want to see how different your results are, guys! Art is subjective! You all experience the world differently! Let’s see some visual representation of that!” Mr. Q implores, gesturing passionately. “Come on, it’ll be interesting! I want full effort from everyone on this— I promise it’ll be worth your while. Okay? Okay. Good.”

He stalks to his desk and picks up a cap full of paper scraps.

“Get in pairs now so I can start handing these out,” he orders.

The room comes to life with murmured agreements, scattered laughs, a few people changing seats.

Ben has already done the math and knows he’s literally the odd one out, so he doesn’t bother moving a muscle. He watches Mr. Q make his way through the rows of pairs, smiling with excitement at each word drawn. _Of course he loves all the words, he’s the one who chose them._

The teacher is just starting down the row in front of him when the door to Ben’s right bursts open.

Rey spills in. Ben jumps a little, straightenening up.

_“I’msorryI’mlate,”_ she gushes at Mr. Q. Her face is wildly flushed and she’s out of breath.

“It’s quite alright, Miss Niima,” he assures her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she gasps and swallows. “Yes, I just had a robotics thing. Here— I have a note from Mr. Tekka.”

“Oh,” Mr. Q exclaims pleasantly, taking it. “I didn’t know you were in the robotics club.”

Rey nods fervently.

“It’s relatively new, isn’t it? How is that?”

Ben can tell he’s trying to ease the panic out of her. Mr. Q is a good teacher.

“Good— it’s good,” she nods some more. “We just got a really cool speaker to come speak to us. That’s what I was doing. Mr. Tekka and I were just on the phone with a place that’s gonna host us.”

Mr. Q makes an interested listening face.

“We got it,” she adds. “It took a while to get a hold of them, but we got it.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiles. “All you missed here was some peer review and a quick run down of the new project. You’ll be all right.”

She looks over at Ben for the first time. She looks… nervous.

“You’ll need a partner. I believe Ben here needs one, as well. I’ll get to you soon with your words,” he nods at Ben.

“Yeah, sure,” Rey replies, but Mr. Q has already turned his attention elsewhere. "Great."  She scratches her cheek and turns to Ben. “…New project?”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly.

She nods.

All of a sudden, he notices his backpack on the seat next to him— and shoves the thing to the ground with unnecessary speed and force to clear it. A smile flickers across her lips.

“Thanks.” She sits down.

She’s wearing a white, high-necked sleeveless shirt today. It makes her skin look even more golden than usual and illuminates those freckles he so adores so much. Pieces of her half-up bun are falling out, her eyes are greener than usual. An imperfection of skin on her shoulder catches his eye— a couple of pale, foreign spots among the smattering of shoulder freckles.

Cigarette burns. Scars. Undeniably. Ben feels something in him go cold. He knew she had abusive foster situations, but he never—

“I forgot to give your sweater back.”

Ben’s gaze snaps back to her face. “What?”

“I didn’t give it back. I don’t have it today, either. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are so clear. They hold no contempt, even if they feel like they see right fucking through him. They're terrifying. They're beautiful.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he tells her, heart stuttering. “You can hold on to it.”

“Oh, well… thank you.” She turns and reads the whiteboard thoughtfully. Then, after a second, she frowns. “Wait, what?”

Glad that he actually paid attention for once, Ben explains the assignment. He watches her face as he does, trying to judge her reaction to the realization that they're going to have to spend a decent amount of time together. She doesn’t look upset or mad or disappointed— if anything, maybe anxious. But not upset.

His stomach won’t stop turning over and over. 

Mr. Q finally reaches them. They’re the last pair. Ben gestures for Rey to pick the first word, but she gestures right back.

He picks one and reads it out loud. “Balance.”

Mr. Q gives a soft, approving hum.

Rey chooses the next. Hesitates. “Fate.”

Their eyes meet, and Ben reaches for the last.

The word almost gets stuck in his throat.

“Hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's VIBE(S) ✔️: "Realla" by TOKiMONSTA ft. Anderson .Paak, "Flickers" by Son Lux [(evolving playlist)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ)
> 
> I hope you are all doing okay. I've been coping by writing and living on tumblr, basically!
> 
> anyways I've been thinking a lot about anger and forgiveness and hope recently and this is what happens when I think about thinggggssss. be well xx


	6. i've got the strangest feeling this isn't our first time around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey works with Ben on photography their project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of past physical abuse
> 
> Hiii so this is like part one of what this chapter was originally meant to be— my outline underestimated me and tried to fit too much, so I'm splitting up the long ass result into two chapters. That means there's going to be two Rey POVs in a row now (which annoys me deeply lol,) and the chapter count will go up by one. BUT in every aspect beyond organizational, chapter six and seven ARE one long chapter, so I hope you can think of it that way because that's how I wrote it. I'm being weird about it because it's stressing me out for some reason but it'll be okay! Next part should be out within 24 hours. xx

“Am I crazy?” Rey grumbles after group on Tuesday, dropping into the passenger side of Ben’s Subaru. “Or did those two hours last for four?”

She glances over and sees him smiling as he flips through his keys. “I feel unqualified to judge what is or isn’t crazy.”

Rey laughs, then notices Armie and Tallie watching them curiously from the benches by the building’s entrance. _We’re doing a class project,_ she tries to telepathically tell them, squirming lower in her seat. _It’s… a school thing._

_A school thing,_ she repeats to herself. _A thing for school._ It’s too easy to get carried away in the blind, senseless thrill of being with him. She can’t lose her footing, not unless she _wants_ to fall off the cliff. It’s just impossible when he’s being so… so…

Strange. That’s the word. It’s _strange_ how well they’ve been getting on.

It’s probably just because they have a good reason to get along now, with the assignment and all. 

Both Ben and Rey seem equally committed to acing the thing right off the bat— they’ve already decided on all three of their locations and when they’re going to go. She’s pretty sure they’ve made more progress than anyone else in class thus far. Decisions have been smooth, discourse perfectly civil— friendly, even. It was a little stilted between them at first, but within the first hour of planning together, all of that burned away. 

Now she finds herself forgetting over and over that they’re not just Ben and Rey— that things aren’t as simple as the glow of his smile makes her feel like they are. She keeps forgetting that this isn’t how it’s always been, even if it feels like it. She has to remind herself that it’s temporary and that she can’t get used to it.

Ben starts the car and, without him having to ask, Rey swiftly pulls up directions for Crescent Cove.

“Okay… get on the forty-two north.”

Ben nods once, leaving Dr. Holdo’s building and their busybody group mates far behind. His eyes skip to the dashboard for a split second as he makes a turn, and Rey understands. She turns on the air despite already feeling a little cold. He murmurs a thanks.

It honestly kind of sucks how in-tune they’ve been in the past twenty-four hours, if she thinks about it. It’s absurd. It feels unfair, like a recipe for disaster.

But so long as they continue to avoid discussing anything from the past, Rey figures everything should be okay. As long as they look only at what’s directly in front of them, they’ll be fine.

Because, outside this vacuum of academia, the fact still remains that Rey can’t trust Ben Solo. And it also remains that said Solo won’t tell her what he really fucking wants from her. So… Rey’s plan is to keep them inside the vacuum.

Ben gets on the freeway, posture hunched and focused as he merges across the first few lanes. Rey watches him concentrate with a bitten-down smile.

The structure of his profile is criminally elegant. So are the dark waves are pushed back from his face, allowing his too-large ears to peek through. Rey knows how soft that hair is. His brow is creased in concentration, lips pulled in a slight frown. She knows how soft those are, too. Rey snaps her attention away, annoyed at herself.

“I brought your sweater this time,” she announces, fishing it from the backpack at her feet. “Brought it back, that is. To return it.”

“Oh,” he says. There’s a pause. “Thanks. The beach is cold though. You should probably hold on to it for now.” 

“I was hoping you would say that,” Rey sighs with relief, shrugging it on immediately with a soft, happy noise. Her head pops through the neck hole, then an arm through an armhole… She freezes. _Shit._ “Because I’m really cold. Right now. I’m cold.” Her last arm slowly emerges.

_Not because it’s the perfect amount of soft versus worn. Not because it smells like you._

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he frowns, reaching for the temperature controls.

Rey mumbles an excuse and wraps her arms around herself. Merciful warm air starts to blow around her ankles. She shivers.

“I thought beaches were supposed to be sunny and warm.”

He throws her a look. “What, you’ve never been to a beach in Chandrila?”

“No, I’ve never been to a beach.” 

Tense, she holds for the incredulous laughter, the prodding follow-up questions, the unintentionally rude disbelief.

“Well,” Ben says simply and without judgement or even surprise, “the ones in Chandrila are always cold and rainy as fuck.”

She relaxes a little, rolls her shoulders back. “Oh. Well. That sucks.”

“No, I love it.”

This gets a big smile from her. What a fucking edgelord. “Of course you do.”

He laughs, and her stomach flutters at the sight. She looks down at the directions, swallowing. Evading. Twenty minutes away.

Rey clears her throat softly. “Take the next ramp to the interchange for the fifty.”

His turn indicator ticks softly in answer.

“Do you know what you’re doing for your shot?” she asks, angling her body towards him. Her cheek squishes against the headrest. “For ‘balance?’”

“You’re not allowed to ask that,” he accuses, pretend-serious.

“Oh, fuck off!” She gives his shoulder a tiny shove. “I didn’t ask what you were doing, I was asking if you were ready.”

She can’t believe she just touched him so casually— she didn’t mean to, she didn’t plan on it. Her fingertips practically burn where they touched him. A good burn.

“I’m never ready,” he admits. “But I have an idea. You?”

“Same, more or less. You think anyone else will go to a location like this?”

“Like, will they go to a beach? Or do you mean like… will anyone else try this hard?”

Rey feels her cheeks heat up. “We’re not ‘trying hard.’ I just care about this class. I like it.”

“Me too,” he shrugs defensively.

“I want to learn.”

“Same here,” he insists.

There’s a pause where Rey isn’t sure whether to be mad or start laughing.

“Whatever,” she goes with. “I’m going to a beach.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, nodding wholeheartedly. “Exactly.”

His crooked smile isn’t aimed at her, but she knows it’s for her. It threatens to crack her heart wide open.

In the lull, Rey lets herself zone out the window. It’s gray outside and drizzling. The car is nice and warm now, and she can feel Ben’s steady presence beside her in her bones. If she doesn’t think too hard about it, she feels complete and total peace. Despite everything, she feels safe beside him. Maybe safe isn’t the right word— it’s that, too, but more. She rests her eyes for a moment.

Someone touches her knee.

Rey wakes up, jumps back, muscles coiled to spring.

It’s only Ben— staring at her, leaning back, hands raised in surrender.

“Sorry,” she squeaks. Seeing him, she sighs in embarrassment. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” he says quickly, quietly. “No, I just startled you.”

They watch each other for a tense moment. He’s definitely looking at her like she hit him.

“Sorry,” she says again.

He looks like he wants to say something, but can’t. He shakes his head like ‘it’s fine.’ It seems all he’s capable of doing. Rey’s insides twist with discomfort.

She breaks the moment by looking out the window where she sees that they’re parked on a bluff overlooking the ocean.

_The ocean._

“Holy shit,” she breathes, scrambling upright. “That’s a lot of water.”

Transfixed, Rey steps out of the car bringing only her phone in her back pocket. She walks closer to the edge of the bluff, stepping over patches of pretty purple flowers somehow growing straight out of the sand. _Miraculous,_ she thinks. _There’s nature’s balance for you._

“Hey, be careful,” Ben calls. She hears his door slam shut, then his jogging footsteps.

At the very edge is a railing, but it’s well-rusted and visibly broken in multiple places.

“Wait,” he pants, zipping up his jacket. “Don’t trust the railing. It was built when the cliff still went out another ten feet.”

Rey stays a foot or so behind it, but otherwise pays no attention to Ben’s words. Mist from the sky hits her face, mixing with the salty spray from the waves below.

“It’s…” she begins, then gives up. It’s indescribable, in person. She wouldn't to do it justice. The ocean looks angrier than she ever expected, and colder. Bigger, more powerful… beautiful. Beautiful and terrifying. 

Ben says something, but it’s lost to the wind.

“What?”

“Which lens do you want?” 

She turns, and Ben has all his clever miniature clip-on iPhone lenses in what looks like a pencil case.

“I told you, I don’t—”

“It’s not a hand out, Rey. We’re getting the same grade on this. You don’t want to just try one?”

“But isn’t it—”

“Mr. Q is the one who told me about them. It’s fine, it’s allowed.” He lifts his eyebrows expectantly. Deep brown eyes tie her to the ground, settle her anxiety.

He just… he just swept away every reason she had to refuse him in a few concise sentences. He knows how she thinks, Rey realizes. He knew how she was going to object before she even thought to object. She sighs and eyes the bag, making him wait and doubt himself.

“Fine, okay. Do you have anything like a telephoto?”

He beams.

Ten minutes later, Rey is descending the long, steep wooden staircase down to the cove where sand actually meets water. 

Ben stays up on the bluff and answered her question of ‘why?’ with a simple wave of his phone, now equipped with a wide angle lens the size of a bottle cap. She left him alone to attend to her own end of the assignment.

The funny little lens he lent her is a bit thicker than the one he’s using. She’s seen professional photographers use massive zoom lenses the length of an arm to capture live sports or birds or even the moon— Ben’s version is kind of like a baby version of that. The thing is actually kind of cute. She can’t believe he convinced her to use his fancy equipment.

Rey slips and nearly lands hard on her ass in the final stretch of the staircase, but catches herself at the last second. Her palms sting from the coarse impact and don’t stop stinging for a long time. Damn sand. 

Balance is technically everywhere, Rey concludes thoughtfully as she trudges towards the water line. Dead rotting kelp with the unexpected life of sand dune flowers. Massive walls of rock holding back the waves, and the waves in turn eroding them over years. The tides themselves are a cyclical balancing act tied to the moon. Everything is push-pull. For every sad thing, there is something bright. For every force of nature, there is one just as strong to answer it.

Rey wanders for a bit in the secluded little cove, eyeing everything from a photographer’s perspective. At the far end is what looks like a cave housing a small tide pool. It scares her a little— the opening is massive, broad, and dark, and she’d have to cross a small channel of water to get there. She hesitates, then goes over anyway.

It gets louder as she draws closer. The acoustics of the cavernous opening echo the already-deafening roar of water all around her. The walls themselves are covered in dark mussels— sharp, dense, enumerable. The dark iridescence of the shells gives the entire interior of the cave the appearance of a kaleidoscopic oil slick. Light rain starts coming down. Rey barely notices.

She remembers that just a few paces behind her is a thick, bright patch of flowers in the sand.

Balance— visually, it’s perfect. Rey gets on her stomach behind the flowers and lines up her shot. Ben’s lens allows her a greater depth of field, which is exactly what she wanted. She spends a few minutes getting a few variations of the same shot: half the frame bright purple life, half black abyss. The contrasting textures make it the image extra rich and interesting.

After that, she just starts taking pictures of things that simply interest her. When she’s satisfied, Rey sits at the edge of the water and rests her head on her knees. The ocean smells so specific— she wants to memorize it. She wants to remember everything— even the texture of the annoying sand.

An unexpected warmth seeps into her skin, and she looks up. A sliver of sun has cracked through the grey sky. _It’s sunny at the beach, Ben,_ she thinks vaguely, and rests her head again, this time looking straight ahead at the water. _Do you like sunshine or not?_

“Hey,” Ben’s voice calls. Rey’s heart rate responds before her muscles do, before she even turns and sees him coming towards her along the edge of the water. His hair is whipping in the wind and he’s smiling straight at her. It’s out of a goddamn movie. He points. “Look.”

She looks. In the sky is a fragment of rainbow, quickly disappearing alongside the sliver of sun. It fades completely just as Ben reaches her.

“Yeah, the _sun_ came out,” she jokes up at him. “I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t ruin your day.”

“I’ll survive.”

He holds out his hand and Rey takes it. It’s warm, steady, sure.

He lifts her and turns so that his massive body acts as a wind block. He’s closer than she was expecting. Neither lets go of the other’s hand first. Neither speaks.

Rey can’t think of any reason to allow this— other than the fact that it feels nice and she really, really wants to. But for her own survival, that reasoning won’t cut it. His fault. Her burden. Remember? 

She soaks in the feeling for another second, then moves to slip her hand from his. He catches it.

“Why are you always freezing?” He puts his other hand over theirs. “Like, always.”

Rey has no words; she just watches as he protectively envelops one of her hands in the cradle of both of his. His thumb skims her purplish knuckles. 

_Do you know what you’re doing, Ben? Do you understand how much I’m inevitably going to hate you?_

His innocuous brown eyes meet hers in question. Her stomach flips.

“I’m small,” Rey tries.

Ben snorts and lets go of her, shrugging the jacket from his back and pulling it around her.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asks casually, like he didn’t just perform what she considers a grand romantic gesture.

Rey slowly accepts the jacket and nods up at him.

“Cool, me too. Let’s go.”

“Do you think Armie is going to snitch to Dr. Holdo about us working together on this?” Rey asks conversationally in the car, still bundled in layers of Ben’s things. 

The heating system is on full blast. The light rain has turned hard outside. Traffic radio buzzes in the background while Ben’s old windshield wipers scream back and forth at an ungodly pitch.

“What? Snitch?”

Rey jumps to explain. “Other programs I’ve been in frown on extended contact between kids outside of group. Obviously in-school stuff can’t be avoided, but… you know.”

It seemed like such a dumb rule the first time she heard it, but since then Rey has witnessed enough traumatic shit to prove its necessity. Letting lonely, severely troubled kids get too close to each other without supervision can backfire. Hard. 

“Yeah, that’s generally a principle,” he agrees. “But no. Hux won’t say anything to Holdo.”

The sureness in his voice confuses her. He stops her before she asks by simply repeating himself: “He won’t. He won’t say anything to Holdo.”

“What, did you threaten him or something?” Rey laughs, only half-joking.

“No."

Tense silence. Rey shifts in her seat and tries to figure out how to say what comes next.

“Ben, I know that night, he agreed to, you know…. be discreet,” she starts, not missing the way his fingers nervously roll their grip on the steering wheel, “but that doesn’t mean anything else is off-limits to him. He seems—”

“Rey,” he cuts her off. “Rey.” Softer. “I can’t tell you how I know this, but I promise you. Hux isn’t going to cause any kind of trouble for us. He won’t. Just trust me on that. Okay?”

She studies his profile. The determined set to his mouth. The nervous bob in his throat.

_Just trust me._

Part of her wants to laugh, the other cry.Are they playing pretend? Are these warm moments the real ones, or were they the cold months she spent in his shadow? What’s real?

Rey can’t help feeling that anything that feels this good, this _whole,_ is something she can count on. 'Trust.'People leave. Good things end. It doesn’t matter how much they say they care or love you. Ben already left once. He said he’d come back and then he didn’t.

Something deeper tugs at her core.

_Just trust me._

Inexplicably, she wants to.

And inexplicably, she does.

“Okay.”

Ben shoots her a tentative look, surprised. She meets it with a tired smile and a raised brow, wondering what the hell he said to Hux to be so confident about this.

“You’re kind of scary, Ben Solo, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he mumble-laughs good-naturedly as he checks his mirrors. 

The flash of hurt across his face is so subtle and so quick that Rey almost misses it. Her heart clenches.

“But not to me,” she tacks on swiftly. She states it like it’s obvious, crossing her arms.

“No?” he laughs in an attempt to joke. His voice is a little too tight, the question a little too genuine.

_‘Their fear of me keeps them away,’_ Ben said the other day in group. His own parents are afraid of him— his friends, too, along with the entire student body. It’s ridiculous, but Rey has seen it for herself. Ben looked her in the eyes that day and told her that he was alone.

Suddenly, Rey feels like she’d do just about anything to prove him wrong.

“Yeah…” Rey trails, scrunching her nose before dropping the wavering expression and shaking her head resolutely. “Yeah, no. Sorry.”

“But you just said I was scary,” he protests.

“Well yeah, you certainly seem to try to give off that vibe,” Rey explains. “No offense. But that doesn’t mean I’m actually afraid of you… No offense.”

He laughs, and Rey breathes a little easier. “Why not?”

“Ben,” she says lightly, like breaking bad news. “You’re kind of a softie.”

He shakes his head with a placating smile. “Okay.”

“ _Ben._ ” Rey pulls herself upright in her seat, adamant. "You’re, like, an artist. You give girls your jackets. You’re weirdly thoughtful. You—” 

Rey was about to say _‘have been so kind to me,’_ but… it feels wrong to say that while pretending he was never a dick to her. Because he was. He really fucking was. She refuses to give him credit for one and not the other. 

So Rey clears her throat instead. “… You know.” 

“I think you’re forgetting to take the anger issues into consideration,” he argues.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ve got those, too,” Rey rolls her eyes. “You’re not special.”

“Wow,” Ben laughs, a slow but unstoppable grin spreading across his face. It’s like the sun slicing through grey sky all over again. “Don’t let Holdo hear you say that.”

“That you’re not special?”

“No, admitting to anger issues. She’ll try to rope you into Wednesday/Sunday groups.”

She holds up a hand. “I’m sorry. There’s another group?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Except that one’s focused specifically on anger. I went once. Fucking hated it. There’s also eating disorders on Friday mornings… single-parent support groups every third Saturday… general mindfulness classes for all the neurotypical yoga moms Tuesday afternoons, codependents anonymous Sunday nights, and— ah, obsessive compulsive just got moved from Tuesday to Monday mornings.”

“Jesus, Ben!” Rey laughs. “Did you swallow Holdo's day planner?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Oh, on accident?”

Ben presses his lips together and takes a pause to maneuver his way off the freeway. Rey casually observes him, noting for the millionth time how capable of driver he is— aggressive, but safe. It’s like it’s second nature to him. It’s kind of hot.

“I’ve just been there a while, so I pick up on stuff,” he explains softly when they hit their first stop light. Rey realizes he’d been actively thinking of how to answer her that entire time. “And I’ve known Holdo for a long time, too. Don’t tell any of the others, but… she’s my mom’s best friend.”

Rey’s head whips around to stare. “No way.”

“Yep.” His face is completely serious.

Somehow it makes total sense to Rey. The doctor always seems exasperated with Ben in a way befitting someone closer to a son than a client. Her subtle glares of disappointment are always a degree more personal. Rey had noticed it before but always figured it was because of his veteran status there.

“Is that weird?” Rey asks, genuinely curious. “Must be weird.”

“Everything is weird,” he laments wearily. 

Something about the way he says it cracks Rey up to the point of near tears. The corners of Ben’s mouth twitch up when he looks over and sees her laughing. It’s painfully endearing. 

“Sorry,” she wheezes. “I wasn’t laughing at your pain, I swear. How is it weird?”

“It’s okay,” Ben tells her. “And I mean, privacy-wise, HIIPA laws mean everything supposedly stays confidential, but still. She’s around a lot whenever my mom is home from DC.”

Rey nods sympathetically. That would be weird, showing up to family functions and having your therapist be there, all chummy with your parents.

_And all while she knows his side of everything, too,_ Rey realizes. 

An unfamiliar flick of anger twists in her gut on his behalf. Disgust, too, for Dr. Holdo— for a woman who sings the praises of _boundaries_ and _trust_ and _safe spaces._ Wouldn’t she break all of those?

“Plus, my mom’s a senator so, you know,” Ben continues, “she could easily violate HIIPA and get away with it if she wanted to. I’m pretty sure she has before, with Holdo. They talk about me.” He forces a little laugh like it doesn’t bother him. “So nothing in my mind is really mine.”

“That’s really fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees half-heartedly.

“Seriously, Ben,” Rey says more forcefully. “That’s not okay.” 

Has anyone ever told him this? Been on his side? Looked out for him?

“I like Holdo,” he half-shrugs in some excuse for an excuse.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still fucked up. Why are you…?” Rey stumbles, realizing she’s in new territory. Sensitive territory. “…Do you _have_ to be in the program?”

Why else would he stay in this web of adults seemingly pitted against him?

“Not anymore, not legally. It’s an agreement I have with my mom now. A lot of doctors initially suggested a higher level of care so… this is kind of like a compromise.”

Oh. That does put him in a weird place. This is probably still a lot better than living with twenty other discarded kids in a residential compound upstate. His family is relatively well-off, though, so it’d probably be closer to a ‘rehabilitative community’ where they grow their own food and do equine therapy twice a week.

“What about you?”

The question takes her by surprise. “Oh, it’s a social work thing.”

“A social work thing?”

“Yeah. Whenever I trade hands, the social worker in charge takes one look at my file and checks the ‘therapy’ box for the guardian,” Rey laughs. 

“Why?”

_…Why?_

Because she wasn't the only kid to get beaten up and starved by a shitty foster parent but somehow got wrapped up in a rare case where the asshole actually got caught and taken to court and then jail for it. That was a few years ago. Now anyone with a teensy bit of clearance who cares to look can read a thorough and well-organized report on every abuse she ever endured as a child. It follows her everywhere, stapled to her fucking forehead.

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

Rey realizes how she must look. “No! No, it’s okay. I just… Every kid in the system should be in therapy, honestly. You know?”

“But they’re not.”

“No,” Rey agrees carefully. “They’re not. I guess I’m lucky.”

She wasn’t expecting the conversation to turn its focus like this. She tenses for the next question— likely something like _‘then why you, what happened?’_

“Lucky?” is what he asks, though, turning his full attention to her at a stop light. She swears it physically burns through her. “Do you really think that?”

She shrugs. The older she gets, the more Rey appreciates it. Most people who really need therapy don’t ever get the chance.

“I didn’t think so at first, but… yeah. It’s helpful if you let it be.” Rey looks him up and down meaningfully, trying not to smile. “If you try.”

Ben points to himself with a scandalized look and a funny little gasp. “Are you saying _I_ don’t _try?”_

Rey hits his arm with the limp sleeve of his own sweater and giggles— an annoying, alien sound she cuts off by pressing her fist to her mouth. _Jesus, Rey._

She collects herself. “You’re doing okay.”

——————————————————————————

“Hey, is that mine?” Finn squints from across the table with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth.

Maz’s muffled laughter comes from the back of the house, still on her conference call. Rey already set aside a plate for her for when she’s done and Finn is on his second. Rey has been picking at hers for fifteen minutes, unable to stomach more than half of it.

She looks down and realizes Finn’s talking about her sweater. “Oh— no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it from somebody. Not you.” She leaves to put her plate in the sink.

Finn snorts. “Yeah. It’s twice your size.”

“It’s comfortable,” she ends it simply, then claps his shoulder on her way out. “I gotta go finish my Physics review. I’m behind.”

“Wait! We were gonna talk about the dance!”

Rey sighs, walks backward, then drops into the closest chair. “Okay, fine. Go.”

“We go as a group— you, me, Rose, Poe. Then after party at Cal’s place,” he summarizes with maximum word efficiency. “Yeah?”

Finn and Rose are officially an item now. That leaves her and Poe. ‘Group,’ her ass. 

Rey licks her lips. “Is it Friday or Saturday? I forget.” 

She did not, in fact, forget.

“Saturday. The game is Friday, the dance is Saturday.”

Rey winces. “Shit. I have that robotics thing on Saturday. I planned it, so I have to be there. I’m sorry.” _And Ben and I have our last shoot that morning._ “I hope you guys have fun, though.” 

“Rey, that thing starts at noon. Poe told me about it.” Fuck, she forgot about Poe. “You can definitely do both. Plus, I already bought your ticket.”

_“What?”_

“Relax, they’re like fifteen dollars.”

“But I— I don’t have anything to wear,” she stammers.

“That’s what friends and clothing stores are for.”

“I’m not good at dancing.”

“None of us are.”

“I’m— I’m going to be really tired! From my assignments!”

“Rey, what the hell are you—?”

“I don’t want to date Poe!” she erupts in a shrill squeak. The aftershock is thick, terrible silence. Even the muffled chatter from Maz’s office in the back goes quiet.

Finn leans back in his chair. 

“…Wow. Why not?”

“I told you last time, I’m… not ready,” she lies.

“Rey…” Finn hesitates. “I love you, and I know that your… _issues_ make life harder. I get it. I stick up for you a lot because of it.” 

She hides her flinch.

“And this isn’t about Poe…” He meets her eyes apologetically, and she already knows how bad this is about to be.  “But sometimes I watch you and… and it’s like you hold yourself back on purpose because it’s more comfortable. Like you’re waiting for answers to appear instead of searching for them like the rest of us have to. Like I said, this isn’t about Poe, but… you can’t keep yourself safe by treading water. Doing nothing. Keeping everyone at arm’s length. I’m sorry to say this like this.”

“Are you serious?” Rey demands, voice much smaller than it was supposed to be.

“Yeah, I am.” He sighs. “It’s harsh, but I _know_ you. And I notice when you get weird and avoidant like this. You don't let yourself... grow. You wait for things and moments that never come, but Rey— _we're_ here. Us. Your friends are right in front of you, right now. Just say yes to us and we'll help you— I know we can help you.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” she spits, all smallness gone. A pulse of vicious clarity courses through her. “You have no idea what’s going on with me, what’s changed— which is a _lot_. You’ve just been too busy with your tongue down Rose’s throat to notice, and now you just want to make me like you and attach me to your mediocre friend so we can go on mediocre double dates and have some mediocre thing in common and be _close_ again.” 

The slack shock and horror on his face only spurs her on. 

“You don’t know me like you think you know me. No one does. I’m not some sad broken-winged bird that you and your friends’ _gracious_ friendship have healed, okay? I’m not as simple as you wish I was and youare not _qualified_ to judge whether or not I have _grown!_ So don’t fucking tell me that you ‘get it,’ or guilt trip me, or _tell_ me what my problem is. You don’t know what I’ve been through, and you don’t know what I’m going through. You don’t! You’re not even witnessing half of it! And yet you— I— I can’t believe I have to say this. I don’t want to. You— I don’t— you have no— I can’t _do_ this right now!”

Her angry glare meets his wide, stunned eyes. It burns between them for a second that seems to last a lifetime before he speaks. 

“Rey, I’m—”

Then she starts crying. Hard. He has his arms around her instantly.

“I’m sorry,” Finn says, stunned. 

_He’s such a good person,_ Rey wails in her head. _What did I do?_

“I didn’t…” he starts, sounding way out of his depth. “I— I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she hiccups. “I’m happy for you and Rose. I don’t think any of you are mediocre.”

“I want to know everything I’ve missed. I want to hear about everything that changed.”

It’s so authentic and earnest that Rey only cries harder. He rubs her back silently. 

“I want to go to the dance,” she sniffles finally. “I do. I’ve never been before. I want to be with you guys and dance badly and take stupid pictures and wear a pretty dress— everything, all of it.”

There might’ve been a little truth to what Finn was saying—she can’t avoid this part of her life because it’s less-than-comfortable, and she wants to go. Maybe it’s not her ideal conditions, but she still wants to experience it.

Finn laughs. “Are you sure? What about our group?”

Rey’s eyes glaze over the carpet over Finn’s shoulder. “Well I can’t really go with who I would’ve wanted, so… you guys are the best possible next choice.”

Finn pulls back from the hug. “What? Rey Niima!”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime,” Rey smiles, wiping her eyes. “But not today.” For now, Ben stays tucked in her pocket and hers alone.

Finn begs to know more, but Rey only apologizes and refuses, laughing. Finn still may not get everything happening with her, but at least it feels like he’s in her corner again— not that he ever actually left.

———————————————————————

Ben and Rey’s second location is a crowded one— the town square. They sit side by side on a low wall next to a coffee shop, legs dangling, keeping out of the way of foot traffic as best they can.

Chandrila isn’t a ‘small town,’ but it’s small enough that a few people actually stop to start conversations with them— something that never would’ve happened in Jakku. Anyone who approached you on the street there was either selling something or about to rob you.

A very sociable little old lady assumes they’re a couple about half an hour into their stake out. Neither of them correct her, but only because it would cost more time and trouble than it’d be worth.

Rey has been trying to capture candids of interesting interactions in the square using another of Ben’s little lenses on her phone. ‘Fate’ feels like it would be most visually interesting when using people as the subject, so she’s trying to get shots of strangers bumping into each other. The hardest part to nail is the shutter speed— she wants everything other than the subjects to be dramatically blurry to give an artsy we’re-the-center-of-the-world effect.

Ben likely knows what she’s going for, even if she hasn’t explicitly explained it to him. Sitting with her and observing for close to an hour would be enough to figure it out. He gets up and walks around for a little while at one point, assumably to get his own shot. He returns pretty quick, though, and brings with him coffee from next door and a story about a man with a leashed cat he saw in line.

They’ve been talking nonstop all day, even at school. Rey didn’t think they were being very loud, but people kept looking at them strangely all throughout photo class, regardless. Cal Kestis even approached their table with a smirk at one point but before he could open his mouth, Ben simply looked up and said “No.” and the kid went pale and pivoted on the spot. It was hilarious.

Rey finds herself wanting to know Ben’s thoughts on everything— really just anything about him that she can. He’s pretty interesting for a guy that Rose once commented ‘looks as bland and sad as a young Severus Snape.’ He pulls stories out of her, too— ones she never had reason to tell before.

Like how she met Finn— minutes before they were introduced and found out they were going to be siblings, Rey saw him petting the dog she’d just rescued and literally tackled him, thinking he was stealing the mutt.

Ben tells her how he was obsessed with calligraphy as a kid, of all things. He still keeps all his old supplies in a drawer at home. When Rey laughs and asks why his penmanship is so bad, he looks genuinely offended and she takes it back.

Rey broke two track records at her last school— which was actually kind of a big deal, it was in the paper and everything— but has never mentioned anything about it at Chandrila because Coach Edwards would definitely force her to join the team if she found out… and Rey fucking hatesrunning. 

Ben learned to drive at the age of twelve because his dad apparently “just felt like teaching him.” Four hours in a community college parking lot and two phone books as a booster seat later, and he was proficient in the basics. His mom flipped out when she found out.

Rey cheated her way through her language requirement by unlocking a corner of her brain that knows rudimentary French. Her birth parents in England must’ve spoken it to her, because three classes in, basically everything in the level one textbook came snapping back to her like a rubber band. 

Ben went to a fancy boarding school until his freshman year. His classmates there apparently all hated him because his uncle was the headmaster. He insists that, having experienced both, being disliked in general is being better than being disliked specifically for suspected nepotism.

Rey may not be able to drive, but she learned how to repair parts and engines in her time working in her first foster’s auto shop. She continued to hang out there for a while even after he went to jail because she liked it so much and even made some money at it. The adults did not like that when they found out and she has not been allowed to go back.

Ben’s favorite living thing in the whole world is a golden retriever named Artie who he only gets to see when his dad visits. Even though he’s heard the breed called dumb, Ben is adamant that the old dog is smarter than everyone in his family put together. Rey can hear in his voice how much he misses him.

“I’m seeing him soon, though,” Ben hums, swinging his legs over the ledge.

Rey smiles as she scans the crowd for subjects. It’s nice to hear nice things from him— telling her about them seems to brighten his mood, too. Happiness and Ben once seemed like oil and water to her, but she was wrong. She was so wrong. It suits him. She feels lucky to witness it; she’s not sure many other people have.

“Wait,” Rey says, lowering her phone. “You’re seeing him soon?”

He only sees Artie when his dad visits, Ben just said so. Does that mean his dad is coming? The one he nearly beat to death, the one that gave up on him? That one? He said it so casually that now she feels like it was a test, or code. Code for ‘I wanted to tell you about this terrifying thing that’s happening to me but can’t really talk about it.’

“Saturday,” he nods, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

Rey’s heart constricts. “I see.”

His legs are still swinging like all is well, but his expression is very far away. Too far away. Suddenly Rey has the urge lean on him, hug his arm, take his hand— anything to bring him back.

She settles for placing her hand down next to his, just the edges of their pinkie fingers lining up. It’s lame, she knows, but it’s something. The tiny sliver of contact is enough to make her pulse skip.

Ben’s head turns to look at it and Rey tenses in anticipation of the dark cloud that’s bound to pass over him any second to take him away from her. Her stupid gesture will have overstepped. He’s going to realize how little of a person she is, how incapable and insignificant. He’ll go away for good now. Why did she do this? Why is she here? What made her forget her burden and his fault? 

Ben lifts his hand and gently turns it open towards her. 

Rey stares. 

Oh. That’s what.

Cautiously she takes it, heart going into free fall.

Ben laces their fingers together and gives a tiny squeeze as though it could say what he can’t.

The free-falling stops and slams down all at once into an erratic rhythm against her ribs. Heat blooms in her chest and cheeks. A little unsteady, Rey looks up. He’s there, watching her with his deep brown eyes that hide nothing. They’re so intense and clear that Rey swears he’d be able to see into her mind if she let him look long enough. He cracks a smile first, and she follows.

They’re not strangers. They’re not drunk. The moment is not wild nor inebriated nor random in any sense. They are themselves, grounded, true. There is nothing between them that could excuse this as meaningless. This is real. Ben Solo is holding her hand. No qualifiers. 

Rey goes back to people watching, hyperaware of the fact that Ben does not do the same, does not look away. She glances over eventually to give him a joking ‘you good?’ look but falters under his gaze. No one has ever looked at her the way he does. No one, not once in her life.

Rey swallows and decides to scan the crowd for another twenty minutes or so. 

She got her shot within the first ten minutes of being there.

————————————————————————————

Neither Rose nor Rey particularly care about football, but they go to the game on Friday anyway to be social and support Finn. It helps, personally, that Rey spiked her Big Gulp pretty heavily. Preparation is key with these things.

“Is everyone showing up to the game supposed to make the dance better somehow? Aren’t they supposed to be, like, linked?”

“Eh, maybe. School unity, I guess.”

Rey grunts. “Why is football the one everyone watches? Where’s the turnout for, like, water polo? Or tennis?”

“Tradition? Teddy Roosevelt?”

“And who allowed children to play a sport that requires so much protective equipment in the first place? Isn’t that a bad sign?”

“Rey, oh my god.”

“Sorry!” she whines in defense. “I’m inquisitive.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” Poe exclaims as he slips down next to Rey. He comes from the row of bleachers behind them, clutching a mega pretzel.

Rey knew he was coming to the game, but was also kind of hoping he’d get caught up with another of his many groups of friends before he found them.

“Poe!” Rose cheers. “Is Jess with you?”

“No, I don’t think she came.”

“Bummer,” Rey mutters, then immediately feels guilty. _He’s not the enemy. He’s okay. He’s nice._

“Yeah. She’s still coming tomorrow though, I think,” he shrugs before grinning and waggling his eyebrows. “Just not with _us!_ ” He sings ‘us’ with an extra syllable.

Is all they care about who’s dating who?

“They’re cute… in like a scary way,” ponders Rose. “Intimidating a-f.”

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, then sighs and crosses his legs. “Who’s winning?”

Rey and Rose look at each other and snort.

Poe rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’ll ask someone else. You guys want some?”

He holds his giant soft pretzel up to Rose and automatically hands Rey a piece. She smiles sheepishly as she accepts it— everyone knows she never turns down such an offer.

“Thanks, Poe.”

“You’re very welcome, Rey.”

Somebody scores or field-goals or something and the crowd erupts, jumping to their feet. Rey settles in, takes a big bite out of her chunk of mega pretzel, and checks her phone.

Ben Solo

7:18 PM

Are you sure I’m not asking you to get up too early?

Rey Niima

7:23 PM

ben, i’m the one who suggested sunrise. am i asking YOU to get up too early?

Ben Solo

7:23 PM

No! No, sunrise is perfect. I was just checking

Ben Solo

7:23 PM

How much earlier do you want to be there to set up?

Rey Niima

7:23 PM

what, 30 or 40 min? for parking and set-up and general buffer? what do you think

Ben Solo

7:24 PM

Yeah, that sounds right. I’ll be at your house at 5

Rey Niima

7:24 PM

AM??? jesus chriST

Ben Solo

7:24 PM

This is why I asked!!!!

Rey Niima

7:24 PM

i’m just fucking with you, solo. i know exactly what i signed up for

Ben Solo

7:24 PM

Did you just call me Solo?

“Rey!” Rose snaps.

“Sorry.” She tucks her phone away and looks as alert as she can manage, which is getting harder, having gone through half her Big Gulp. “What’s up?”

“Do you know if Finn’s gonna be put in this game?” Poe asks.

“Probably not, from what he’s explained to me. I don’t get how it works, but that’s how he made it sound.”

“Same here,” Rose sighs.

“That’s too bad,” Poe says, peering down over the row in front of them. “I know they’ll use him soon— next game, if not this one.”

Finn’s down on the field warming a bench somewhere they can’t see him. Maybe he can at least _feel_ their love and support. Rey snorts to herself.

“Is Rey drunk?” Poe whispers to Rose, who is literally sitting on the other side of Rey.

In response, Rey shoves him her drink. He grins. “Aw. Thanks, Rey.”

“You’re welcome, Poe.” See? Sharing is caring. Poe is good.

Poe and Rose start talking about booze for Cal’s after-party tomorrow. Boring. Rey checks out.

Rey Niima

7:28 PM

was it bad?

Ben Solo

7:28 PM

Just funny. 

Ben Solo

7:29 PM

By the way, early mornings are typically cold

Ben Solo

7:29 PM

I know you have a hard time judging these things, so I thought I’d give you a heads up so you can plan

Rey laughs out loud. He’s using _sarcasm_. It’s like she’s unlocked a level.

Rey Niima

7:29 PM

wow! so kind! but you don’t have to worry about me

Rey Niima

7:30 PM

i have a guy who’s basically a walking warm-clothing closet. he generally covers me

Rey Niima

7:30 PM

but thanks for the concern <3

Ben Solo

7:31 PM

You’re welcome.

Ben Solo

7:31 PM

He’ll always cover you.

Ben Solo

7:31 PM

See you tomorrow, Rey

Rey has a legitimate excuse to give her friends when she leaves at the end of the third quarter.

“I have to wake up at four thirty in the morning, Rose. Four. Thirty.”

“Ew,” Rose winces.

“Yeah, I know,” Rey groans like it’s the worst thing on earth— really, against all logic, it feels like the best. 

All Rey wants to do is go home, get in bed, stare at the wall, and think about Ben Solo. It just feels like good form to first convince these guys that she would rather stay. 

“Wait, what class is this for again? And are you still going to the the robotics Q&A? You’re still going, right? Because you’re the only one who’s in contact with the speaker and the pub owner, too, and—” Poe’s eyes have gone all wide and urgent.

“Yes! Yes Poe, I’m still going,” Rey assures him with a calm hand on his shoulder. She skips the first question— Poe knows too much about the photo class and will start asking questions she doesn’t want to answer. “Are you still coming early to help set up?”

“Yes!” he claps, smiling again. “11:30. Dameron reporting for duty.”

“You’re the best, Poe.”

This satisfies him. With two quick hugs, Rey is free.

————————————————————————

Free to sleep for a measly few hours, that is. A strange flavor of adrenaline wakes her up half past two in the morning and she can’t get herself to go back under.

It’s times like these having a little weed on hand would be mighty useful, Rey thinks. It’s too bad she decided to be _the_ perfect child and commit to Maz’s rule of ‘no drugs under my roof’ despite knowing she could very well get away with it if she wanted. 

Now she’s wide awake in the hours that no one should _ever_ be awake, scrolling through pictures of a random lake on her phone under the covers. Rey had never heard of the place they’re going to today before Ben mentioned it. The pictures she finds online are gorgeous. She’s never been to a place so natural and… green. The waterline is edged by a bunch of private lake houses and cabins, though, so Rey thinks to research a couple spots with good vantage points that are open to the public.

She wants to take a long exposure of the mountainous landscape as the sun rises, which means needing to set up pretty much first thing they get there. She has to be ready. The app she’s been using for manual control of her camera settings offers an extra feature that simulates long exposure— she’s so committed that she splurges the $2.99 without hesitation. Everything is perfectly planned.

_Tripod!_ occurs to her, and she literally gasps out loud. Her phone needs to be perfectly still in the same position for close to an hour. She could find a nice rock or prop it up somewhere, but… that won’t give her nearly the same amount of control. She bites her lip like she’s torn about what to do, but her fingers are already typing.

Rey Niima

3:11 AM

hey, i know you’re sleeping but when you see this… do you have a tripod/tripod equivalent i could maybe use today…? 🥺 maybe? perhaps? please?

Ben Solo

3:11 AM

Rey, why are you awake?? Go to sleep!

Rey Niima

3:11 AM

OH MY GOD i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i’d wake you up! i’ll leave you alone, i’m sorry!

Ben Solo

3:12 AM

It’s okay, I was already awake

Rey Niima

3:12 AM

well then. you’re being a little hypocritical then, aren’t you?

Ben Solo

3:12 AM

I have a small tripod designed to hold smartphones that you can use?

Ben Solo

3:12 AM

It’s short but it bends and wraps around stuff so you can put it anywhere

Rey Niima

3:13 AM

that sounds perfect!! thank you thank you thank you!!

Ben Solo

3:13 AM

You’re welcome.

Ben Solo

3:13 AM

Seriously though, why are you awake?

Rey Niima

3:13 AM

i’m just so super extra special excited to photograph some hope

Rey Niima

3:13 AM

and you?

He doesn’t respond immediately. It makes something click— it’s technically Saturday. His dad comes later today. It’s conjecture, but his restlessness is probably related to that. Rey’s gut sinks as she frantically thinks of something to say to make it better.

Ben Solo

3:15 AM

Same. You took the words straight from my mouth.

She smiles at her little screen in spite of herself, forgetting her panic.

Ben Solo

3:15 AM

Would you… want to head there early?

Rey gives herself a head rush from bolting upright so fast.

Rey Niima

3:15 AM

yes

Rey Niima

3:15 AM

how soon can you be here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! xx
> 
> this chapter's vibe ✔️: "Past Lives" by BØRNS [ [x](https://youtu.be/_VxvCjWAf3U) ][ [x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ) ]  
> (^^ chapters 6 and 7) (bc they're one chapter to me) (i am adamant about this)
> 
> this is THE reylo song to me right now. it's everything. it's so tender and sweet but also upbeat and celebrative i just 🥺🥺🥺


	7. i know places we can go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has the most eventful Saturday of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief talks of & scattered allusions to past child abuse  
> [specifically physical, sexual, neglect] 
> 
> 👀🎢

_Jeans, thick socks, boots, black turtleneck under a Sex Pistols tee, Ben’s sweater, beanie. Brush teeth, brush hair, tuck hair up… take it back down. Half-up. No, down. Pack a backpack full of granola bars, water, a blanket. Almost forget the phone charger. Look in the mirror for far too long. Decide on mascara at the last second. Then tinted lip balm. Wipe it off, hunt down the un-tinted one. Be quiet as possible. Write Maz a note just in case._

She finishes just as she hears a car pull up outside. _Ben._

Rey doesn’t even try to hide the overflowing grin on her face as she jogs up to the passenger side.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles back.

She plops down into the passenger seat and eyes him. His hair is a bit unkempt, or maybe it just seems that way since it’s been getting longer. She likes it. He looks… kinda sleepy. In the softest, warmest way possible. He’s wearing a thin t-shirt, all his other layers having been tossed in the back, so that she’s just left staring at… arm. His big dumb arm of stupid solid muscle, just casually resting on the steering wheel like it’s nothing. _Don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare._

“You’re not wearing black,” Rey croaks. He looks down at the olive shirt on his chest.

“No,” he agrees, then cocks an eyebrow. “Would you like me to change?”

“Hmm… no. I guess it’s okay,” she approves, tossing her hair for effect. “We can go.”

He faces forward to put the car in drive, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright then. If you say so, sunshine.”

“Okay, I think… yeah! Yeah, go left here,” Rey instructs. She rolls her jaw around as her ears pop from the small amount of elevation. It’s a new sensation. Weird one.

Ben gets them to the lake in nearly half the estimated time provided by the navigation. Sure, no one is on the roads at this hour, but Ben is also just a maniac. Give him open road and he goes nuts. Maybe Rey should’ve been some voice of reason, but she honestly was just as excited as he was. She wonders if he’d teach her how to drive if she asked.

It looks like they’re going to be waiting in the dark even longer than they anticipated. It occurs to Rey for the first time how sketchy this really is. And are wild animals a thing around here? Should they be worried about that?

Ben turns right down an unmarked dirt road.

“Hey!” Rey objects. "The park I scouted is that way!”

“I know a better place.”

“But I researched!”

“Sorry! I would’ve told you not to if I’d known.”

“Wow,” Rey scoffs, but with no real anger. “This is all private property this way, you know. I’m not adverse to trespassing, but if my shot is ruined for whatever reason over some rich—”

“Rey,” he interrupts in a controlled voice, holding back laughter. “I know what I’m doing. It’s gonna be okay. You’re going to like it. Just trust me.”

There it is again. _Just trust me._

Rey doesn’t really know why she says it, but she does. “You know— you say that a lot, Ben.”

All the air leaves the car. She counts how long it takes.

_One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand._

He sighs. Nods. “Okay.”

He pulls them over in front of a random cabin, turns off the car. Extra silent.

It was an innocuous enough sentence, but Ben knows exactly why she can’t _‘just trust him.’_

He knows.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I probably deserve that.”

Rey watches him, throat too tight to speak.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Listen… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I reacted like that, or… how I ever thought it was okay.”

It feels like she’s on the edge of a cliff.

“And I’m sorry.” He stares at his hands on the wheel and speaks quietly. “Rey… I’m sorry for how I treated you. For what I said. I’m sorry.”

The words have an air of weariness, like they were formed and realized far before ever allowed to be spoken. Trapped in his head, rotting, self-loathing. Whatever. Rey doesn’t fucking care.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“Did you mean what you said to me?”

“No,” he exhales like it pains him, like he’s appalled at the very idea. “No, of course not.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Rey—”

“Why did you _say_ that?”

“I— I didn’t—”

“Why would you _do_ that to me?”

The first tears start to fall and she fucking hates it. She hates everything. He shouldn’t get to see her cry.

Ben starts to reach to comfort her, then thinks better of it.

“You terrified me,” he confesses, the words tumbling out. “But it was never _because_ of you.” Rey laughs disbelievingly, which turns into a tiny sob, then another. “It wasn’t, Rey. I swear.”

Rey winds her arms around herself and curls, pressing down on her stupid spasming diaphragm. Fuck this. This was a horrible idea. This is humiliating— he was never supposed to hold this kind of power over her ever again.

“Rey, I was terrified of you,” Ben repeats with more urgency, taking her shoulder. She tries to move away but he stays there, anchored. It grounds her. “Seriously. When I saw you in Holdo’s, I panicked and I just thought— I thought as soon as you knew anything about me, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me, and I hated that, and it just seemed better and safer and easier to do what I did but it was actually just fucking stupid and horrible and I know that— believe me, I knew it immediately— but I was still too scared to fix it, and just— just please. Please believe me.”

The silence that follows as Rey absorbs his tangled confession is so loud and _charged_ that it feels like a physical presence in the car with them.

“Are you serious?” she warbles finally, tears gone. “…That’s why?”

“Yes.” He at least has the decency to sound ashamed. The knot in her gut loosens a fraction.

She sniffs and glances at him from the corner of her eye. He lets go of her shoulder. “So… you were lying?”

“What?”

“What you said to me, how you acted at the beginning of the year. It wasn’t real?”

He shakes his head, eyes guileless. “No. Not even a little.”

Rey laughs weakly, then licks her lips and nods. “Wow. You really suck.”

“So you believe me?”

It’s not necessarily her trust in his honesty that makes her believe it, but rather the fact that she knows him. Being familiar with Ben Solo’s specific brand of stupidity and self-hatred makes it obvious to her that, yeah— he probably did really think that being mean to her would _stop_ her from disliking him. It’s almost enough to make her laugh.

“Yeah. I believe you.”

“Thank god.”

_Yeah not so fast, Solo._ “You made me really fucking sad, you know. For months. Everywhere I went. All the time.” It’s the weakest possible way she could say it, but it’s what she could manage.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, Ben.” Her voice shakes. “I don’t think you understand.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back. I would. I would take it all back.”

Rey watches him with wary eyes, trying hard to hold on to her anger in what is actually a flood of pure and total relief.

_Ben Solo doesn’t hate her._ He never did. He’s just a fucking jackass, that’s all. She didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t leave _because_ she did something wrong. And he’s here. In a twisted way, he came back. Fresh tears sting her eyes but she beats them back.

The ball is in her court.

“Just don’t do it again,” she says quietly. “Don’t go away.”

She doesn’t say she forgives him— she doesn’t. She doesn’t chew him out— which she very well still might. She just offers what she can, what she wants: a way forward.

Ben silently raises a pinky finger. Despite herself, Rey laughs. They pinky swear.

“You suck.”

“I know,” he smiles sadly. The warmth in his eyes melts her a little. His mouth quirks into a brighter half-smile when he squeezes her hand. “Want to see something cool?”

He gets out of the car and motions for her to follow. She does— carefully, quietly. They’ve parked right in front of someone’s house, for god’s sake, and it’s four in the morning. Even if it’s an empty vacation home, most of these places will have sensors and cameras.

Oh no. Ben is going through the side gate.

“Ben,” she whispers through the dark. “Ben, what the fuck?”

“It’s okay,” he calls back. “Come on.”

Rey’s anxiety spikes. She considers refusing to participate, but the thought of waiting alone in the car indefinitely is a whole other kind of scary. With rising dread, she scrambles to catch up with him.

“Please tell me you’re not breaking into someone’s fucking house right now,” Rey hisses, watching his silhouette messing with the lock on the side door. “Not for a _photography_ grade.”

“I’m not.”

Rey glances around frantically. It’s too damn dark to see anything.

“Hey— you know, that park I was talking about is perfect for what we need,” Rey starts babbling. “It has a completely unblocked view of—”

_Click._ The door swings open.

Rey blinks. Did he—?

“It’s my family’s house.” He steps in first to turn on a light for them, illuminating the sheepish grin on his face. “It’s okay. You can come in.”

Of course.

The place is nice for an _extra_ house, Rey thinks sardonically. It has a comfortable woodsy feel, even if it’s a little sparse and dusty. Ben finds coffee that isn’t terribly old in one of the creaky cabinets and zealously goes to work on making some.

Rey explores the living room in a slow circle to survey all the paintings and photographs on the walls. Everything is old— even the most recent-looking pictures are still in black and white. A vein of sadness runs through her otherwise innocent curiosity. Like most people, Ben has the kind of history built into his life that Rey simply never will.

“It belonged to my grandparents,” Ben explains as she studies a faded photo of a young couple on the waterfront. “The house.”

“Oh,” Rey answers politely. She turns to see him arranging kindling in the fireplace on his hands and knees and nearly laughs out loud. Ben is proving to be aggressively domestic.

She crosses the room to sit on the couch next to where he’s kneeling so she can watch him. He gets the fire going with one match in one try.

“Okay,” he sighs with satisfaction, sitting back to push the hair out of his face. He glances over at her. Smiles. “What are you smiling at?”

What? Was she? “Nothing. Nice fire.”

He shakes his head and leaves to grab coffee, returning with two mugs.

"Thanks." She breathes it in with a smile as he sits beside her. “You know, I think if ‘hope’ tasted like something… it would be coffee.”

Ben hums in un-ironic agreement. “You could probably induce hope in a dying man with enough caffeine through his IV.”

Rey snorts. “Ben!”

“Too morbid?”

“Nah,” she decides on second thought. “Accurate.”

The wood really starts to burn, crackling and popping a small symphony. Light dances across their faces; warmth starts seeping in past the skin.

“ _Hope is like the sun,_ ” Ben murmurs. “ _If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night._ ”

It sounds vaguely familiar. “What’s that from?”

“My mom’s campaign.”

Rey leans her arm on the armrest and props her cheek against her fist. “It’s a little threatening, isn’t it? Like… ‘Hope or die?’”

Ben stares in horror— like he can’t believe Rey really just spoke ill of his mother’s precious propaganda. He’s grinning, though, and there’s an element of wonder in it.

She shrugs defensively.

“Did I ever tell you what happened with my dad?” Ben blurts suddenly.

Rey freezes, then calmly tucks her feet up on the couch and turns herself toward him. “No.”

His voice is taut. “But you’ve heard about it.”

“Yeah,” she admits nervously. “But only a little.”

“You didn’t ask me about it.”

“…No.”

He frowns at his lap as he thinks, jaw working. It kills Rey to watch. “Why not?”

“I didn’t really think it was my place. At first I thought you hated me, and then I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to. Did you… want me to ask?”

“No. I’m sorry.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It just fucks with me. I’m sorry. I get weird. It’s just… Everyone knows. Everyone knows what happened, everyone knows what I did. It— it fucks with me. It doesn’t belong to me anymore. Like I said earlier, I didn’t want you to— like I said.”

Rey nods her understanding.

“It’s not that long a story. I was fifteen and unstable and he said the wrong thing. I snapped. I only remember pieces.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But it was bad. He almost died from the injuries.

“I got 5150’d, spent six days in the hospital, been in Holdo’s program ever since. But it was on the news because of who my mom is and everything. So the whole first year after, a bunch of parents banded together to try to get me expelled from Chandrila. They thought I was going to bomb the school or something. They couldn’t do it, though, and things settled down eventually. I found some friends who didn’t care.” He sighs. “I think I’ve seen my dad five times since.”

“Total?” Rey blurts. In three years?

“Yeah,” he laughs dryly. “I don’t hate him, you know. I never actually did.” His face hardens. “But I still did it. I still nearly killed him.”

“Yeah, well. I lied under oath to protect a child abuser,” she offers.

Ben’s attention swivels sharply— the intended effect. “What?”

Rey holds her chin up, shrugs.

“I was twelve and scared my next guardian would be worse. I knew how to behave around him, how to evade punishment, how to hide when I needed to, how make sure I ate. I thought I’d be safer with him than with an unknown, or at least he made me think so. So I lied. He had other victims I should’ve thought of, but I didn’t. I still lied.”

“…What happened?”

“They figured it out eventually and I broke down and told the truth. They took pictures of my bones and bruises and scars and paraded them in front of the court as evidence. Plus, the prosecution used the whole lying-manipulation thing as further fuel for the case against him, and it totally worked. But I fucking hated them. I really did— the people who _saved_ me. I would’ve killed every last one of them if I could’ve— I was basically feral. I _still_ wanted to save him.”

“Yeah, but… you’re not saying that you were responsible for that, are you?”

“I was and I wasn’t. I am and I’m not.”

“No— you’re not, Rey,” Ben says fervidly, visibly upset by the idea of her thinking so.

“Listen. This is what I've learned, Ben— there are unfair forces in the world. We have to deal with them whether or not we want to or whether or not we’re ready. It’s not easy. We might do bad things in response to that, but that doesn’t make us bad. _I_ don’t think I’m bad. I don’t think you’re bad, either. I know you’re not.”

Ben looks like he wants to believe her.

“You’re not bad,” she repeats. “So please stop acting like you have to hide it or excuse it or apologize for it. There’s no ‘it.’ You’re not a monster, Ben. I promise.”

Slowly, his eyes soften their hard edge. He swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Rey confirms. _Right answer, Ben Solo._ She leaves the idea alone for him to hold on to. “More importantly— are those friends you mentioned the emo boy band from the fair?”

Ben laughs, bringing a hand over his face.

At some lull in their conversation, Rey asks very nicely if she can touch his hair.

She had been watching it with heart eyes for so long in the flickering light that she decided to say ‘ _fuck it’_ and ask. He had agreed once before and seemed to like it. He agrees again.

Three minutes later, he’s asleep.

Rey’s heart practically bursts from her chest with how stupid happy it makes her. He’s like a puppy. A hulking, soft-haired puppy whose cheek keeps falling in and out of her stroking hand as he drifts off.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, straightening up. “Just feels nice.” But his eyes drift closed again just seconds later, followed by another drowsy head bob.

“Just lay down.” They have almost a full hour before Rey has to even start thinking about setting up her shot. She’s perfectly warm and happy here. Ben clearly needs the rest.

He doesn’t object and lowers himself down, resting his head in her lap so she can keep petting it.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, settling.

Then he stops, turns his head, and squints up at her. Frowning, he reaches up to skim her cheek with light fingertips as though to confirm she were real. Rey holds her breath without realizing until, apparently satisfied, Ben deflates and turns back with a soft noise that vibrates from his chest.

Rey doesn’t know what to call the feeling she’s left with. It fills every corner of her. It glows.

She continues running her fingers through his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest from the corner of her eye. He looks so young in sleep. Lightly, she traces his brow, his cheekbone, his nose with light fingers. There is a certain peace in his features that she has never once seen on his face in consciousness. Her heart aches. She wants to protect him— from what, she doesn’t know, but the urge is overwhelming. For now, she can guard his dreams.

She doesn’t wake him until she absolutely needs to. He’s thoroughly disoriented at first, then unnecessarily apologetic. When he sits up, Rey sorely feels his lack.

“I’ll fall asleep on you sometime and we’ll call it even,” she says to shut him up. He flushes, which she gets a kick out of.

Ben goes to grab the tripod from his car while Rey checks out the deck that overlooks the water. It’s still dark, only just starting to lighten by a degree. She can see the general shapes of the topography around her but no real details. Lights from other houses provide a rough guide to the shape of the lake.

“There’s a little area on the roof, too,” he mentions when he comes back with the tripod. “But honestly, this is probably the best place if you’re going for a long exposure.”

“Hey!” She throws him an offended look.

He freezes. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to know that!”

“Oh,” he relaxes, then snorts. “Yeah. Shit. Sorry.”

Rey waves it off, smiling. Of course he knows. Why else would she be setting up a tripod an hour before sunrise? He gave her shit for asking about his photo the first day, she’s just returning the favor. She opens her manual camera app to get to work… and curses herself.

“Ben,” she backtracks sweetly, “… _if_ I were hypothetically doing that… how would you, personally, go about exposing it?”

Ben’s face lights up as he gets to dive into explaining the intricacies of calibrating exposure. She understands most of what he says— enough to program her phone according.

“Okay,” she claps. “Now I guess just… no one touch it?”

“Won’t touch it.”

“Me neither,” she nods, stumbling back a bit over her own boots. “Yeah. Good. Thanks.”

He laughs at her grace. “Alright. More coffee, I think.”

They wait for the sunrise from inside where the temperature is nice and the coffee pot is accessible. The kitchen has a big plate glass window looking out onto the deck that lets her keep an eye on the tripod, so they hang out in there.

They argue about bands, but surprisingly agree on their most important ones. Ben tells her a story about a road trip involving an uncle and a rare species of butterfly that makes her laugh so hard she nearly pees herself. Rey hits him with a few of her best stories about the wild people she’s met through the system; he asks a million follow-up questions for each. Ben never listens half-way, Rey realizes. Not with her, at least.

When the best part of the sunrise starts, Ben leaves for a while to go get his own shot. Rey waits for him out on the deck with her coffee and a blanket so she can experience the full splendor.

She’s never been in a place like this before. The closest thing would probably be the big conservational park back in Jakku, the boring one with paved visitor trails— but there is no real comparison. These are the _mountains_ , this is real forest! The massive trees surrounding her are older than any living person. Everything feels alive— the colors, the foliage, the water, the air. Pictures of this place do not hold a candle to what it feels like to _be_ init. The same with the ocean, with her and Ben's beach.

Rey hears shuffling inside, then the soft creak of the door behind her.

“Get what you need?” she calls from her cozy spot on the ground.

He makes a sound of assent. Rey watches someone way across the lake rig up a small sailboat with idle interest. It’s sure pretty, but there isn’t really much wind.

“Can you sail in lakes?” she asks, half to herself. “Or is that a stupid question?”

“It’s not stupid,” he says stoutly. It’s cute how he gets offended by any suggestion that could even slightly discredit her. He stops a few feet behind her. “But I hope so, for that guy’s sake.”

Rey snorts and throws him a look over her shoulder, but is thrown off by the unexpected sight of him taking a picture of her.

She makes an indignant noise. “Hey!”

“Sorry,” he smiles, lowering his phone and _not_ seeming terribly sorry. He gestures vaguely to the tree line and the railing in front of her as though to indicate a little frame. “It was too perfect, I had to. How long do you have left on yours?”

Rey completely forgot about hers. She leans over and checks.

“It’s done!” she squeals, snatching her phone from the tripod and checking the final image. “Ben, I know you’re not allowed to see this, but…” She grins up at him. “It’s cool as fuck.”

His pout clearly says _‘wait, I wanna see it,’_ but he works through it and just says, “I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” says Rey happily. After a second, she repeats it with more sincerity. “Thank you.” Ben tilts his head. “For helping me,” she explains, then glances back at the house. “For this. But also, you know. Everything.”

‘Everything.’ It’s a small word for all the things she really means.

Ben’s only reaction is to stand there. His eyebrows pull in slightly, and Rey’s stomach sinks. When he finally does something, it’s just to slip his phone in his back pocket.

“I mean— you know, just—” Rey sputters, all confidence in what she thought she knew instantly bludgeoned to death by his silence. “I know you didn’t have to do any of this, you didn’t have to help me so much.”

He leans down, pries the mug from her hands, sets it on the ground.

Confused, she presses on. “And I don’t want you to think I’m, like, some sort of _take-r,_ and I guess you should just know that I— that I—”

Then, without preamble, he gathers Rey in his arms and lifts.

She yelps. “Ben!”

Calmly, easily, he stands to his full height and start lumbering back towards the door.

“Why are you—?”

“Felt like it. I’m a _taker._ I took you,” he says simply. Stubbornly. “But please, continue with what you were saying. I should know that you…?”

“Fuck you!” Rey shakes with relief and laughter, pressing her forehead into his shoulder so he can’t see the blush she knows is raging on her face. _‘You should know that I actually really fucking care about you’_ feels ridiculous now.

“It’s good to know we’re both takers, then,” she tries to joke.

They’ve both been taking this dumb assignment and using it as an excuse to be close to each other. They’ve both been taking advantage of these strange, private little pockets of reality— pockets where they can be alone together and the world can’t follow.

“I thought I was alone, there,” she finishes weakly. She can tell Ben knows she’s supposedly joking but he stops abruptly anyway, eyes serious.

“You’re not alone.” He says in a heartbeat, like instinct. Like fact. He sets her down gently. “Not ever. Not while I’m here.”

It’s like he’s punched her in the gut. She stares at him, eyes stinging before she can even form any real thoughts. The words have already formed a crater inside her.

People have told Rey these things before— friends, therapists, social workers, whoever. It’s pretty standard. She always appreciates an attempt at comfort and connection, she really does. But, in her short lifetime, Rey has learned the truth— all people who suffer beyond a certain point warp into one-way mirrors. Not on purpose; it’s inevitable. Rey has been a one-way mirror ever since she can remember. She’s okay with it. It’s not so bad. She still lives her life and enjoys it— being seen isn’t necessary to survival.

But that means being assured that she was or wasn’t alone never meant anything to Rey. No matter what was happening in her life, good or bad, she was still always alone behind the mirror. Whether or not there were people ‘on her side’ in front of it, the fact still remained that she was alone behind it. Always. She’d already learned how to live with that.

So it’s not Ben’s words themselves aren’t that have Rey reeling— it’s the fact that she _believes_ him.

“Hey, woah,” he says softly, eyes widening with worry. “I’m sorry— please don’t cry.”

He doesn’t understand, which makes her laugh, even as literal tears start running down her face.

She believes him. When she looks at him, the weight of the mirror is gone. There is nothing hiding her from him. He is actually beside her. It’s comforting and terrifying all at once.

And Rey realizes, for the first time in her life, she doesn’t feel alone.

She pitches forward and hugs him around the middle the way a child would hug a tree. He’s too tall and she's too weak for a proper hug.

His arms settle around her, cautious.

“Neither are you,” she muffles into his shirt. She feels muscles in his back tense when she says it— but they slowly relax through his next exhale. “I mean that.”

His arms tighten around her. He can’t see, but she smiles.

“Rey.”

“What?”

“Rey.”

Rey tilts her head up to look at him, and he’s there, waiting to kiss her.

Her breath catches when his lips find hers, but soon her hands are finding their way to either side of his face, bracing themselves. Her entire body floods with warmth. His mouth is firm and sweet on hers, and she leans into it. For once, there is no manic rush, no inebriated crudeness, no barriers, no guilt. Before, their kisses made it feel like the world was ending— now this feels like the beginning.

It feels as warm and hopeful as finding something new but familiar, as feeling at home in a foreign place, as meeting someone and knowing immediately that you were meant to know them.

They pull away slowly. Rey’s heart thumps. She lowers herself from tiptoe but keeps her eyes locked on his. They stand and smile at each other like the shy teenage idiots they are, but it doesn’t feel stupid at all. It feels perfect.

_There you are._

_———————————————————————————————_

Rey is the very first one to arrive at the pub before the Q&A. She’s a little unfocused at first, but gets her shit together quick. Poe gets there not long after and takes point on dealing with the owners for logistical issues. Mr. Tekka shows up next, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up before he sits down at a table, opens a folder, and starts… grading tests? Whatever. He’s the advisor, he can do whatever he wants.

Rey arranges the seating and calls their speaker to confirm his ETA.

“Is this… a bar?” Erika Miller asks haltingly when she shows up with the projector.

“It’s a pub,” Rey snaps at her, then winces. “Sorry. I’m stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“We couldn’t find a cheap enough location and then the speaker actually suggested this place. They have open mic nights and small shows here all the time, apparently. Why not a school event?” _Also because the guy hooked them up for free._

Erika’s eyes flicker to the rows of bottles of liquor on the far wall with unabashed judgement.

_Ugh._ _Fuck you, Erika._

“Right then,” Rey nods with strained civility. “Why don’t you go find one of those high tables to put that on?”

Erika smiles grimly and does as she’s told.

The pub is still open and operational up front, so Rey keeps an eye on the door so as not to miss or lose their guest in the flow of regular customers. Luckily, she recognizes him from his pictures as soon as he steps through the door.

“Hello!” she calls, running to the front to greet him. “Hi! Mr. Calrissian! I’m Rey. We’ve spoken on the phone.”

A smartly-dressed man in his fifties with a cane lifts his eyebrows at her extended hand and shakes it firmly, looking charmed by her formality. “Hello, Rey. Good to meet you.”

She starts to shepherd him to the back to where the small stage is, but he just smirks.

“Young lady, I used to _live_ here— I know where to go.” He sees her face and laughs. “Not literally. I just spent way too much time here in my youth.”

She laughs nervously. “Ah. Right. Sorry.”

A man around the same age grunts his way through the front door carrying a heavy-looking box.

“What the fuck do you have in here, Lando?” he huffs, catching up to them.

“Robotic things, of course,” Calrissian grins at Rey, flourishing a hand. “And no cursing, Han, these are schoolchildren. Have some decorum.”

“Yeah, alright,” Han grumbles.

They only have a smidge of technical trouble with the projector at the very beginning, but otherwise her little event goes far better than Rey could have hoped. Twenty-three out of twenty-five RSVPs show up, all on time. Mr. Tekka even puts down his grading to listen, the content is so compelling.

Calrissian is wildly charismatic. Everyone in the small crowd is on his every word, laughing when he wants them to laugh and ‘ooh’ing when he wants them to ‘ooh.’ He regales them with tales of his education, his career path as a robotics engineer, and his areas of expertise. He shares video clips of things he has worked on, as well as some things currently in the making. He even produces a cute knee-high robot from the heavy box his friend carried in and gives a little demonstration with it.

When he opens up for questions, there are many— thankfully. Nothing’s more awkward than no questions at a Q&A, and Rey would’ve felt personally responsible for that.

He gets a big round of applause at the end, after which he announces he’ll hang around for a while and maybe get some food in case anyone wants to ‘chat about bots.’

A handful of people stay behind. Rey still has to break down the school’s equipment, but that can’t realistically happen until everyone’s done talking with Mr. Calrissian.

She splits off from the group and goes up front to sit at the bar for a breather— some french fries and a lemonade will make things better. They always do. The guy behind the bar looks at her funny, probably deciding whether or not to kick her down from it. It’s two in the afternoon and she doesn’t try to order alcohol, she he apparently decides to allow it. She smiles extra sweetly at him as he leaves to put in her order.

“French fries for lunch?” a gruff voice teases from her right. It’s Calrissian’s friend, sitting two seats over with a beer and a lifted brow.

“Guess so. What, do you disapprove?”

“Oh, no— not at all. Wish I could still eat stuff like that,” he sighs longingly.

Her gaze falls to the near-empty beer glass in front of him. He catches it.

“It’s _Lite_ ,” he reasons defensively. Then, with perfect timing, the bartender slides him a new one with a nod. She stifles a laugh.The gruff man— Han, she thinks— scowls and palms it, muttering. “ _It’s Lite_.”

Rey lifts her hands as though to say _‘no judgment here’_ but does stop and wonder how many he’s had. She didn’t see him in or near the audience during the talk— he was probably at the bar the whole time.

“Are you friends with Mr. Calrissian?” she tries conversationally.

“Ha!” he booms. “I think so. I’ve certainly known him a long time.”

Rey fidgets. “Ah.”

“And you, are you in charge?” he asks. “Of the club?”

“No,” Rey answers quickly, then pauses. “Well… kind of. I’m not president, but I always end up doing way more than I signed up for. Like, literally.”

Han laughs. “Ah, you got roped in. I know how that goes.”

Rey shrugs— she doesn’t mind it, really. The bartender brings her lemonade; she thanks him.

“Well, you seem very capable. Looks like it went well.”

“Thank you,” says Rey, pleased. “You've probably seen him talk to other groups, but—”

“God no,” he guffaws. “I don’t work for him, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just in town for a day; wanted to see him and this morning was my chance.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Debatable,” he grunts without explanation, then takes a long sip of his beer. “You want to be an engineer?”

Rey shifts in her seat and thinks. “Yeah... maybe. Thinking maybe aerospace, though, not robotics.”

He gives her his first real smile. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I have some experience with cars, and I like them… but I think planes would be even cooler. I’m just gonna get my first degree in mechanical engineering and go from there, I think.”

“That sounds like quite a plan,” he agrees, still with that smile. “And planes _are_ cooler, for the record. I’m not an engineer or anything, but I used to be a pilot.”

Rey lights up. “Really?”

“Really. So I might be biased,” he shrugs. Rey laughs. 

Han sighs and seems to slip into some private pensive moment. He eyes her, visibly considering something.

“You know…” He gestures to the seat between them, suddenly focused. “Can I?”

Rey nods her assent and watches him move a barstool closer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Rey.”

“Rey,” he repeats thoughtfully. “I’m Han. Han Solo.” He hesitates for half a beat. “I think you know my son, Rey.”

It doesn’t register— it just feels rather random, so Rey laughs. “What?”

“My son, Ben. Do you know him?”

_Ben? Ben Solo?_ Oh.

Rey literally feels the blood drain from her face. She stares at the graying man, her eyes wide and unblinking.

_This is Ben’s dad? Oh my god. This is Ben’s dad._

What the fuck is she supposed to do? 

Han clears his throat. “You alright?”

“Yeah! Totally,” she answers ultra casually. “Sure, I know Ben. Why do you ask?”

“You’re wearing his favorite sweater.”

She looks down. _Fuck._ Panicked laughter peels out of her. “What? No.”

“Listen, Miss Rey— I may not see the kid very often, but I’d still recognize that thing anywhere. So what, you his girl?”

This is not happening. When did he clock her? Did he know this whole time? Not cool. Rey drops her head into her hands to simply _hide_ for a second. _This is not happening._

“Hey, relax,” Han teases. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just curious.”

The bartender slides Rey’s basket of french fries to her, which she’s forced to lift her head to acknowledge with a grunted ‘thanks.’

“I guess you can ask him today,” Rey tells him bluntly. “If you’re so curious.”

His self-satisfied smirk falters. Good. But then he recovers double, leaning forward. “So you _are,_ then.”

“Is that really what you’re concerned about right now? Is that what you want to know? Is that what you care about?”

Ben has suffered through years of intensive therapy over their fucked-up relationship and what is his dad doing? Day-drinking in a pub full of teenagers and harassing her for information he could get himself?

“He’s told you about me,” he surmises wearily. “Clearly.”

She doesn’t deny it.

“You’re close with him. You’re in that group, aren’t you?” Her cold silence again confirms it. He sighs into his glass and, even though she’s in angry-mode, the look on his face momentarily breaks her heart. “So you know.”

He looks like a man who has accepted a grim fate. She doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before— it was there for her to read the whole time. His face is weathered, his shoulders hunched, his eyes dim. It’s more than just weariness or regret— it’s shame. The long-term kind.

He lifts his drink to her in mockery of a toast. “Makes sense that you’d hate me, then. Cheers.”

It’s too much— she breaks her silence. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“He should.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” she repeats firmly. “And he doesn’t want to. Maybe don’t make that harder for him.”

Han turns away, staring into his glass with determination. It’s not the kind of determination that aims _do_ anything— it’s the kind that’s just trying to avoid collapse.

“I never wanted it to go this way,” he insists. “I love that kid. I regret so much— believe me, I would have _killed_ that Snoke bastard if I had known. I would have. I would’ve gone to jail for life for it. I would’ve done anything to— to—”

_Snoke bastard?_ Rey’s mouth goes dry.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he finishes, giving up. “I have no right to expect anything from him.”

This rubs Rey the wrong way— not-expecting doesn’t equal not-trying. It’s Ben on the line.

“That’s not the point,” she fumes. “I’ll say it again— _he doesn’t want to hate you._ So help him. Help him, and it might happen.”

Han tilts his head at her like she’s a particularly compelling puzzle. When he gives a little smile, she snaps.

_“What?”_ Is this funny to him?

“Nothing. You just remind me of someone.” His tone is frustratingly impossible to interpret but Rey decides she’s not going to care. She shoves some fries into her mouth to cool off, instead. Today has been so fucking weird.

“Look. You’re right to be frustrated with me.” Rey only side-eyes him and keeps eating. “But the truth is… I just want to know how he’s doing. From your perspective, I mean.”

“What does _that_ mean? And also— ask him yourself!”

“I will. I’m going to. But the thing is—” He struggles for words. “I can’t get anything from him. That’s just how it is. He’s like a wall. His mother isn’t able to tell me much, either, because he’s only slightly better with her. Even Chewie can only tell me what little he observes because even they don’t really talk much.” He stops and sighs, rubbing the scruff on his jaw. “I know about every therapy program, every diagnosis, every change in medication. I know from the school when he gets in a fight, what classes he’s taking, that he graduates this year. I know he has some kind of friend group and apparently still keeps his hair too long. But—” His voice cracks subtly. “I don’t know what’s he’s _like._ I haven’t for years. I don’t know what he cares about, what he does for fun, what his sense of humor is like… I’ve lost all sense of it, and it kills me.”

Rey feels the weight of his sadness. Guilt prickles her chest. Maybe it’s not as easy as ‘ask him yourself.’ Knowing things about someone and knowing them are not the same. You can’t just ask to know someone. It’s more of a process— one that requires willingness on both ends. And time.

“I’m not asking you to tell me all his secrets, okay,” Han levels. “Could you— could you maybe just tell me one thing? One random, unimportant detail? It could be how he takes his coffee, hell, I don’t care.” He laughs, but it’s transparent. “I know this is strange. Honestly, I just saw you in that sweater and I— I couldn’t believe it. Made me realize how much I don’t know. So I thought maybe I’d know you.” He looks thoroughly uncomfortable with the confession, but he’s clearly doing his best. “So, anyways. I’m sorry, I guess,” he ends gruffly, staring back down into his beer.

“He likes plain lattes.”

One side of his mouth lifts into a bittersweet smile. Rey swallows hard, a million more little things suddenly ready to pour out of her. She chooses wisely.

“He’s kind. He likes punk rock music but also says ‘Singin’ In the Rain’ is his favorite movie. He uses sulfate-free shampoo. He’s really good at photography. He always wears black even though his favorite color is blue. He’s constantly grabbing or making coffee. He’s more thoughtful than he lets on. He likes clouds and rain.” It’s hard to look at Han as she talks, but she makes sure to for the last detail. “He told me the story about how you taught him to drive when he was twelve. He smiled through the whole thing.”

Han stares at a point on the wall behind her, absorbing. He takes his time. Neither of them speaks for a long while. Eventually Rey turns back to her french fries and lemonade to let him process.

“What kind of punk?” he asks by the time she’s almost done.

“Uh… like the 70s era, I guess,” she estimates. He laughs under his breath and nods approvingly.

“You’re a remarkable young woman, Rey,” he says unexpectedly. “Thank you.”

Cheeks pink, she shrugs.

The man obviously has a hard time talking about any kind of feelings, as men especially of his generation generally do, but Han powers through it, to his credit. “I mean that— I’m glad Ben has you. I can tell you love him, and I’m… grateful. I see why he loves you. He deserves that. God knows he’s had enough pain for a lifetime.”

Rey’s cheeks go from pink to bright red. It’s obvious Mr. Solo assumes that they’ve been together for a long time, which, to be fair, is a reasonable assumption. She and Ben’s short time of knowing each other has been abnormally intense for a high school romance. Still, she doesn’t correct him. 

Rey puts cash down for her ‘meal’ and tip, catching sight of Poe starting to clean up in the back. It flips the anxious, task-oriented switch in her brain. The chores call to her.

“Well. See you around, I guess, Mr. Solo.” She gives him a nod and a smile and goes.

“Yeah, I hope so, kid.” Then he calls after her, “Eat some un-fried vegetables!”

She laughs and starts moving chairs back to their original places. Poe comes to help after finishing with the tables.

“Hey, were you talking to that guy?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s Senator Organa’s husband!” he exclaims like it’s the coolest thing in the world. “And, you know, also Ben Solo’s dad,” he adds with dramatically less enthusiasm. “I met him once before. He came into the office and I showed him where the bathrooms were.”

Rey holds in a rude laugh.

“But we talked for a few minutes before the Q&A. It was awesome. I told him about how I work for the senator and he said he remembered me. He’s kind of a badass, did you know?’”

“Yeah, he was a pilot, right?”

Poe’s mouth drops open and he freezes mid-lifting a chair, looking like he’s about to start convulsing. “ _Did he tell you about it?”_

Oh no. She broke Poe. “No! Not really, he just mentioned it in passing.”

“Oh my god. You’re so lucky to talk to him like that. What did you talk about?”

“Engineering.”

“Wow,” he sighs. “That’s awesome.” Sweet Poe. Sweet, sweet Poe.

“Hey!” Rey reroutes. She quirks her eyebrows. “Do you know what you’re wearing tonight?”

———————————————————————————————

“Rey!” Rose squeals, charging into the bedroom with flailing arms and an adorably lit-up face. Rey meets her half-way where they crash into a hug. “You look stunning!”

“You look radiant!” Rey exclaims.

“You look gorgeous!” Rose giggles.

“You look dazzling!” Rey marvels.

“You look magnificent!” Rose cries.

“You look exquis—!”

“GUYS,” Poe’s annoyed voice booms from the other room. They stop and listen to his footsteps stomp their way from Finn’s to Rey’s bedroom, where he stops in the doorway. After a tense beat, he strikes a ridiculous pose. “What about _me_?”

The girls burst into side-splitting laughter. There’s something about the getting-ready process of this whole dance thing that makes Rey feel dangerously giddy.

The sun is about to set when Finn calls twenty minutes. Rey is basically ready. At this point she’s just going through a box of Rose’s sister’s costume jewelry for fun in case she finds a pair of earrings that go with her look. She has her eye out for small gold hoops.

The dress she’s trying to pair them with is a green spaghetti-strap silk slip that falls a couple inches below the knee. There’s a small slit on one side, but it’s pretty modest other than that. Most of the sexuality of it comes from the way the fabric drapes. She can’t lie— she feels pretty good in the thing. Rose called it ‘classy sexy’ and convinced her it wasn’t too much, and Rey thus was committed. The best thing about it, though? Seven dollars at Savers, still with the tags. _Seven. Dollars._ Rey screamed.

Rose is touching up some of her own curls with a curling wand when she thinks to convince Rey to let her give her loose waves. Rose is surprised when she agrees immediately. Rey’s been letting new things into her life recently and it hasn’t turned out half bad; little things feel less scary. Rose doesn’t burn her even once _and_ Rey finds the perfect earrings in the process.

If the dance is half as fun as hanging out and getting fancy with her friends, Rey will be happy. Rey feels prettier than she’s maybe ever felt in her life. She can hear Poe and Finn being rowdy and singing along to something in the living room. Rose keeps saying shit that threatens to ruin Rey’s perfect mascara with tears of laughter. Her heart feels like it’s at its capacity for loving everyone and everything in her world so much. Her mind goes to Ben— she wishes he could be here and feel this feeling with her. Someday, he will.

At Finn’s ten-minute call, Rose demands a selfie before they join the boys. Rey decides she wants one of her own, too, and goes to locate her phone. It takes so long that Rose abandons the idea in favor of doing some makeup touch-ups instead. Rey finally finds it tossed in with her bedding and retrieves it, victorious. She double-takes.

_16 Missed Calls._

Rey doesn’t have a chance to see who or when they were from because the screen is immediately replaced by an incoming call. No audio or vibration— she forgot to take her phone off silent after the Q&A. Fuck.

_Incoming Call: Ben Solo_

Rey looks around— the guys are still in the living room and Rose is across the hall in the bathroom where the lighting is better. Still, Rey paces to the far corner of her room and answers in a low voice.

“Hello? Ben?”

_“Rey— hey. Hi. I’m sorry I called so many times.”_

“It’s okay, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

_“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t mean to worry you or anything, I’m sorry.”_

The tension in her chest releases.

“It’s okay. So what’s going on, then?” _Aren’t you supposed to be with your dad?_

_“I’ll tell you— I’m at your house, will you come outside?”_

“Will I—? Wait, you’re at my house? Like right now?”

_“Yes, right now.”_

A nervous churning starts inside her. Why is he here? Does he know about the dance? Something feels weird.

“I mean, I have people over right now. There are people in my house.”

_“It’s okay, just come outside for a second. Please.”_

He sounds perfectly reasonable, but she still has a bad gut feeling for some reason.

“Okay— I just can’t be long.”

_“Sure, I’ll see you soon.”_

“See you.”

She hangs up and takes a deep breath. She’ll just quickly pass the bathroom, no need to debrief Rose. She’ll have to confront the boys, though.

“Well look at you, peanut!” Finn exclaims with a big grin when she steps into the living room. “You look great!”

“Thanks, Finn,” she cheers, doing a little spin for him. “And hey, you too! And Poe— you already know you look great.”

Poe shrugs, tugging his collar jokingly. “It’s true.”

Having warmed them up, she mentions casually, “Hey, I have to go outside for a sec— I’ll be right back, though.”

“What? Why?” Finn asks immediately.

“Oh, it’s no big deal, I just have to go out real quick. I’ll be right back,” she parrots herself. God, she wouldn’t even believe herself. The boys look at each other. Okay, fuck it. New approach. “Listen, guys. I have to go out for a sec. Just give me a couple minutes, okay? I’ll be back in time. Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll explain later. Please?”

There’s a growing sense of uneasiness. Finn steps closer. “Rey, is everything—?”

“Yes, everything is _fine._ Can you _please_ just take my word right now? I’ll be right back in a few minutes and I’ll explain. Please. Seriously.”

“Yeah, okay, geez.” “Fine, yeah, wow.” Finn and Poe mumble simultaneously.

“Thank you,” she huffs, and swiftly leaves out the front door.

She sees him immediately— on the right, leaning back against his car. He’s parked along the curb on the edge of where her property ends and the next begins, so it’s a short walk. She basically ends up in the very corner of her own front lawn under her neighbor’s massive oak tree.

Ben is slouched, gnawing on a nail, too deep in thought to register her approach. She gets right up in front of him without him noticing. She takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Ben.”

His head comes up, and the way he looks at her almost makes her feel guilty. It’s hard to believe anyone could deserve such a thing. His whole body seems to sigh in relief.

“Rey,” he smiles.

She shifts her weight nervously— that’s when he notices the dress, the hair, the shoes. His brow creases.

“Wow. You look nice.”

“Thanks— there’s a dance tonight,” she says plainly.

“Oh yeah,” Ben says distantly. "That's right." He’s worrying her.

“No offense, but why are you here? I thought you were seeing your dad today.”

He shakes his head. “No, not anymore.” He offers no explanation. “I came to see if you want to go back to the lake house.”

“…What do you mean?”

“We could spend the rest of the weekend there. I can get everything we—”

“No— I mean, why aren’t you seeing him anymore?”

He blinks with impatience like he wishes she’d get over that part. “I’ve decided that it’s not going to happen, so it’s not going to happen.”

Her heart twists. He must see it on her face, because his expression softens and he reaches for her hands. She lets him, knowing full well it’s not a good idea.

“Hey. It’s okay. Everything’s still okay. More than okay, remember?” His voice is quiet and clear, his hands rough and warm. The smile he gives her is so soft and intimate that she can’t help but return it despite her uneasiness. “So let’s go, you and me. It’ll be great. We can be away from everything, together. We don’t need them. They don’t need us.”

“Ben, that’s not—”

“ _They don’t_ ,” he repeats firmly. She hears in his voice that he believes it. “They don’t, Rey. None of them ever did.” He swallows. “But I do. I need you.”

She stares up at him. He stares back, his soft brown eyes as full and honest as they've ever been. It’s torture. Finally, he gently dips forward to kiss her. His lips on hers are warm and sweet and everything she wants— but also wrong. It’s wrong.

“I can’t, Ben," she says weakly when he pulls away.

“Yes you can,” he laughs softly. “You can. Of course you can! Let’s go.”

She asks the real question. “What happened? Why did you decide to not see your dad?”

He flinches imperceptibly, eyes dropping away. “This isn’t about him.”

She sighs, because it is. “I won’t run with you, Ben. I’ll stand with you, if you want me to— I’ll help you. But not this.”

He blinks and shakes his head like it doesn’t compute.

“I know it must be really hard. I get why you wouldn’t want to see him. I know you’re angry, I know you feel like you have to be. But—”

_“Rey, I really can’t see him,”_ Ben chokes out in one shuddering breath. She nearly jumps at the sudden force of it— like a dam splitting open. Or a seam splitting, faster and faster. Each of his phrases is stilted, pushed together with the next like messy patchwork instead of sentences or even thoughts. He’s frenzied, unorganized, unrecognizable. “I can’t go back there— I won’t. Just come with me. Rey— sunshine. Please. You’re the only one. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything for you. I’ve waited so long. Please. Please come with me. I need you.”

She feels the wetness on her face before she realizes she’s crying. Her heart is breaking. How did this happen? She feels his pain like it were her own, even if she doesn’t understand it. She feels it all the same and it scares her.

They’ve never spoken this way to each other before, but it’s there now. Laid out, real, tangible. It’s there to hold, but also to break. It makes her nervous, the duress under which he’s making these sentiments real to her.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, cradling her face in his hands. “Don’t cry.” He wipes her tears with gentle strokes of his thumbs, then leans in and carefully fits his mouth to hers again. It’s perfect. Still achingly sweet, but deeper now, more desperate. She nearly collapses into him, it feels so good and she’s so fragile. She loses herself for a moment. She almost forgets what's happening behind the overwhelming urge to melt in his hands.

She doesn't forget, though. She manages to pull away from him. “Ben," she exhales, closing her eyes to help her continue. This has to stop. "I’m here. But I won’t run with you for _this_ reason when you’re _this_ upset. It’s not right. I have friends waiting for me, and you have family.”

She can’t think of anything else to say. Her silence really tells him the answer— she’s not going with him. He nods in empty comprehension and winds his hands into his hair, grabbing tightly. It looks painful. There’s terrible silence for a long moment as he hides behind his forearms.

“Please.” The word quivers like it might explode.

Rey can’t see enough of his face to read it properly. Fear coils in her stomach— not fear of him, but for him. She reaches up gently for one of his arms to see if she can coax it down.

“Ben, come on,” she whispers reasonably, voice shaking a little.

“Please,” he begs plaintively. He sounds like a child in pain. It’s harrowing.

It’s like being torn apart. Rey needs him, too, even if she hasn’t said it out loud. She wants so badly just to be by his side and have him be by hers. Today was the first time she allowed herself to want him with nothing held back— and she does. But Ben is clearly lost in something Rey doesn’t recognize and cannot follow. One of them has to stay standing. Right now that’s her.

“Ben. Ben, look at me.” He does. The look in his eyes— small, unguarded, terrified and confused— almost kills her on the spot. “You’re—”

“Hey guys! What’s going on over here?” a carefully collected voice comes from across the yard. Rey turns, but she already knows with a sinking feeling— Poe.

_Fuck._

“Poe, it’s okay— go back inside, I’ll be there in a minute,” she calls, smiling.

When she turns back to Ben, she knows in her gut that this is going to end badly. His posture has already done a full 180°. His eyes flash with unnamed emotion, then immediately smother themselves down into utter blankness. It’s like the Ben she'd been talking to got snuffed out and replaced entirely. Whoever’s inside him now is harder, colder, probably more ready to do something stupid.

Poe does not go back inside, to no one’s surprise. He stops beside Rey, but a little angled so that she still acts as a sort of barrier between him and Ben. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Ben says. His voice is freakishly, perfectly controlled again. He looks from her to Poe and back with aggressive indifference. His throat bobs slightly, though. It’s his tell.

“Rey?” Poe ignores him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, _thank you,_ Poe. I’ll be inside in a second.”

Poe doesn’t take the cue. “That’s good.” He casually surveys the block to the left, then to the right, hands low on his hips. “Watcha doing here, Solo?”

Rey straightens up, ready to tell Poe the truth— minus Ben’s breakdown, of course. Now that she and Ben are clear with each other, she doesn’t care who knows. A part of her even sort of wants everyone to know.

Ben beats her, though. “Photo project.”

“Huh. You guys are partners for the word project?”

“Yup.”

Watching them carefully address one another like this is like watching two people pass a grenade with a loose pin back and forth.

“What are you guys meeting out here for?”

Rey volunteers. “Just supposed to be a quick check in. Got sidetracked, I guess.” She’s running on the assumption that Ben doesn’t want Poe to know about them. She’ll overthink that one and feel hurt about it later— for now she'll respect it.

“Oh, okay.” He turns halfway and nods. “Fun project.” He turns around completely and, for a split second, Rey truly believes that the grenade will be put down. That all of this will be okay.

That is, of course, until Poe decides the tear the pin out with his goddamn teeth and spit it in Ben’s face. He turns back around as though remembering something.

“Oh— I saw your dad today, Solo. Did you know he was in town?”

_“Stop,”_ Rey hisses.

Ben doesn’t say anything at first. Then, very calmly, he gives a simple, “Go fuck yourself, Poe.”

Poe laughs like he’s pleased with his response, like they’re just getting started.

Rey points menacingly. “Both of you! Stop— right now, stop. Just leave it there.”

“No, it’s okay— I don’t want to fight your friend, Rey,” Ben says, sounding bored. “Anyone who has to beg for validation from a set of someone else’s parents needs help, not harm. Are they calling you ‘son,’ yet, Poe? Or do you need a couple more years of filing paperwork to qualify for that?”

“ _Ben!_ ”

“You know— I wish I could pity you, Ben. But I don’t.”

“Aw, damn.”

“Normally when I come across someone as pathetic as you, I root for them to change. With you, I’m just hoping they pull you out of society as soon as possible. Jail, psych ward, makes no difference.”

_“What is wrong with you? Stop!”_

“I think what you’re experiencing is a false sense of superiority driven by your deluded self-perception as ‘the good child.’ I’ve seen it before in ladder-climbing assholes who think knowing my family means they _know_ my family. You're not the first. You're not special.”

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?”

“No, not particularly.”

Rey puts her head in her hands.

“Oh, clever. How’s being dark and witty working out for you, hm? Trashy friends? A mom who works to avoid you? A dad who won't step foot in Chandrila because he doesn’t fucking like you? Actually, maybe that one's because you’re a _fucking psychopath_.”

“You don’t know anything about my parents.”

“Uh, I _know_ I saw your dad drinking like a fish in Eisley’s Pub a few hours ago. You’re supposed to have your little special psycho visitation this week, right? Yikes. I’d drink like that, too, if I were him.”

“Whatever, Dameron. You’re having too much fun with this.”

“Hey, I’m telling the truth. Rey can back me up on that— she talked to him for like twenty minutes at the bar. That’s probably more time you’ve had with him all year, no?”

The rhythm of their vicious banter falls off the edge of a cliff. Ben stops cold. “What?”

Some sort of screwed-up fight or flight mode triggers in Rey, and the world narrows to Ben. She has to make sure he’s okay, she has to explain. She goes to him, stopping only when he’s really the only thing left in her field of vision. “I didn’t know he was your dad,” she says quietly into the small space between them, voice gentle but insistent. “I didn’t know who he was at first."

Ben looks like she’s slapped him in the face. He doesn’t say anything, but she can feel the emotion and confusion rolling off of him in stifling waves. Her mind reels, trying to think of anything she could possibly say or do to help him. She gently settles her fingers around his wrist, praying that he doesn’t slap them off. He doesn’t. Very slowly, his other hand comes to touch her curled fingers in acknowledgment. Silent assurance. A degree of relief washes over her.

“You… talked to him?”

“Yeah. I was wearing your sweater and I guess he recognized it. He didn’t tell me that, though, not for a while. Kind of a dick move.”

Ben laughs under his breath. It’s like water in a desert.

“I was going to tell you,” she says. “Today has just been seriously—”

“ _Hey!"_ Poe yells. "Yeah, hello! Excuse me, but— _what is this?_ ”

Shit. Rey braces herself and turns to face Poe.

“Is this for real?” he demands, gesturing between them with a horrified expression.

She doesn’t deny it.

“No, no, no. This has got to be a joke. I didn't peg you as a fucking idiot, Rey,” he groans.

She feels Ben tense behind her.

“I think… maybe you should consider the possibility that you don’t understand as much about this as you think you do,” Rey appeals carefully.

“The guy is a _psychopath._ He's dangerous. What more is there to understand? You want him to beat _you_ half to death, too?”

Ben pushes himself off the car, rising to his full height and forcing Rey behind him. Rey has seen fights before. She’s even been in a couple. But this is _not_ about to be one. She throws her body between the two of them, cutting off Ben’s advance.

“No!” she shouts, stomping. “I’m serious.”

But it’s too late. Poe has found his winning trigger. “Me too, Rey. I’m seriously worried for you. Hey, Ben— if you were to accidentally kill her, would they put you in _prison_ or an _institution?"_

Rey is sharply shoved to the side. She stumbles, nearly falling. _“Finn!”_ she screams shrilly, right as she hears first impact.

It’s Poe who was the receiving end of it; he’s bent over clutching his side, but the look on his face is more exhilarated than anything else. Not a good sign. He charges like a bull in his crouched position to get Ben off balance, taking advantage of the way he has to pitch forward to steady himself. While Ben’s already off-guard and folded inward, Poe punches savagely straight up into his gut. Ben grunts upon impact but otherwise seems unbothered and unscathed.

“I will beat _both_ of your asses if you don’t stop now!” she yells. “If either of you want to keep my friendship, not another move. Last fucking chance!”

She doesn’t see whatever it is that Poe does, but she sees the murderous reaction in Ben’s eyes. In one elegant move, Ben swings back and pitches forward with his full body weight in momentum, punching Poe across the face with the most horrible combination _thud/squelch_ noise she’s ever heard.

Poe drops to his knees, reeling. A few drops of blood from the corner of his mouth dribble onto his perfectly white dress shirt. It’s that bright red on the white that brings Rey to clarity. She warned them.

Ben is moving forward either to hit Poe again or to lift him up and _then_ hit him again— but Rey intercedes. She kicks the back of one of Ben’s knees out, pushing him to the ground in the direction he’s falling, letting gravity help her. She follows him down and leans most of her weight on his chest to keep him on his back, causing him to wince.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this uncomfortable, asshole?” she growls. She hears the front door slam shut and knows Finn is coming. “Just stay down,” she hisses, getting off him. “I can’t believe this.”

Finn runs up with Rose in tow, gaping at the scene in front of them. “What the hell?”

“Take Poe inside,” she orders. Finn looks at her like she’s either joking or crazy. “I’m dead serious, Finn, please get him out of here. See if he needs like a bandaid or something, I don’t fucking know.” Finn’s eyes widen and he gets to it.

Poe is woozy as hell but he can stand fine, so all Finn has to do is support him. Rose lingers outside, folding and unfolding her hands nervously.

“Do you need anything, Rey?” Her eyes flicker between her and the massive boy sulking motionless on the ground. It must be a strange sight.

“No, but thanks, Rose. I’m just gonna…” she makes a tiny head movement in Ben’s direction and Rose understands.

“Right. Okay,” she whispers, throwing one last bewildered look at Ben before she goes.

They’re alone again. They sit in a good minute of silence before someone speaks.

“Still going to the dance?” His voice is flat and cold.

“I don’t know, are you still running away from your father?”

He doesn't answer.

She can’t be his ticket out of reality. She wants to live in reality _with_ him. But Ben will still just run and fight if he has the option. Run and fight. Run and fight.

“Go see your dad, Ben,” Rey says defeatedly, standing.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He stands, too. “Because I can never change it. I can never make what I did more forgivable. It’ll never happen.”

The words are simple and honest, but his tone with her is blunt and unfeeling. Rey swallows.

“They’re your family. Family forgives."

Ben glares down, flipping through his keys. “You really wouldn’t know, would you?”

Rey’s throat tightens. She nods, suddenly feeling more tired than she’s ever felt in her life. No anger. Just deep exhaustion.“Okay. That’s fine, Ben.”

She makes it three steps when his inevitable guilt sets in. “Wait— Rey.”

“Just go,” she calls emptily. “I’ll see you at school.” She doesn’t stop walking. She doesn’t look over her shoulder. She just trudges her way through it all, never looking back.

It’s not until she’s inside with the door closed and locked that she lets herself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibes: "Past Lives" by BØRNS from last chapter & "I Know Places" by Lykke Li
> 
> i'm proud of this chapter but i also never want to read it again lol. i went a little nuts. my brain hurts. hope you enjoyed the rollercoaster
> 
> thanks for reading xx


	8. i could live with so many burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben does what he's best at— he reacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Warning(s:) Chapter 8 & 9 get a little darker than average.
> 
> TW/CW: very brief suicidal ideation, underage drinking, smoking, and violence (a lil more than usual,) *brief discussion/allusion to past CSA*

Ben drives for two hours.

Not to the lake house, no— to go there now without her feels unthinkable. Instead he circles the outskirts of the city like a caged bird, something invisible but strong tugging at him to stay inside city limits.

At some point he tires of driving and stops at Crescent Cove, subconsciously drawn to it like a siren call. He walks to the edge of the bluff on which he stood with Rey and feels the freezing wind whip straight through him. There’s no one else around. He can’t see much, only the lights stretching up and down the coast to the distant north and south. He can make out a bit of white water below if he squints.

The familiar urge to jump from high places bolts through him like lightning. He doesn’t want to die, per se, but he still harbors that old curiosity of how it might feel to fall. Somehow what happens to his life today feels less important than it did yesterday.

Dr. Holdo says to think of harmful urges as passing clouds, separate from himself. He has to observe them from the ground and patiently wait for them to pass. He doesn’t have to act on his thoughts. ‘A thought is just a thought.’ It’s frustrating as fuck.

It’s too cold to stand there much longer, so Ben goes back to the car. The roar of the ocean is muffled to almost silence once the door shuts like a vacuum seal.

Rey had been speechless when they first got here. She’d never even seen the ocean before. Not once.

He remembers the rainbow that literally spilled from the one crack in the grey sky over her head. Like it knew her, like it had to break through the wall of darkness just to see her. He’s convinced she must’ve caused it. It was too bizarre to be random.

The wind picks up outside. He can tell from the faint whistling sound. 

What now? Where does he go? There’s no place left. There’s no one.

He dials Dr. Holdo. No answer. _You’re reached the private cell phone of Dr. Amilyn Holdo. I’m not here right now, but please leave a message with your name and number and I’ll be sure to get back to you. If this is an emergency, please call 911 or go to the nearest—_ Ben hangs up.

He’s fine. He starts the car and heads for town.

He spends an hour drinking coffee and not touching the obligatory sandwich he orders at the twenty-four hour diner near fifth street. He sits in his booth in perfect stillness and silence, terrified of an impending implosion. He tips the waitress forty percent for reading his body language and not talking to him more than twice.

Back in his car, Ben resists the urge to blindly drive around some more. The problem is that some part of him is afraid that if he doesn’t keep moving, the energy in his body will build up and combust. He needs somewhere to go. Anywhere.

He remembers Kuruk and the others and checks their group chat— pretty quiet this week. He texts Vic directly to ask where they are. Vic types for close to a full minute, ultimately sending one plain, unexplained address. It’s a house only a couple neighborhoods over from Ben’s. A party, most likely. It’s right next to the university, probably hosted by some of the Kuruk’s new friends who go there. That works fine for Ben— he won’t know anyone outside his friends, or at least he hopes so. 

It takes twenty minutes to drive there from fifth street when he cuts through downtown. He passes the coffee shop he and Rey once sat next to for so long and tries not to remember her laughter. About how it goes silent when she laughs the very hardest, about the pink it puts in her freckled cheeks, about the hilariously fake-angry look she gives him when she can’t breathe because of it, like it’s all his fault. He’ll take that fault. He’d take it over this disgusting feeling he has now— a feeling he deserves, but hates all the same.

Rey deserves better, and that’s the bottom line. She deserves someone that doesn’t ask the impossible. That doesn’t harm her friends. That doesn’t say the meanest thing he can think of for no other reason than to hurt her. Why would he ever want that? He doesn’t. He never wants her to hurt, ever. But he said it. He still said it, and then he just left.

And now he’s driving to a party where he will inevitably get pissed and pretend none of it ever happened. He agrees with himself— it’s terrible. But that seems to be what he is. He can prove it.

He parks a block away from the address on a little bridge over Bear Creek and stares down at the steering wheel, breathing four counts in and four counts out. The creek gleams under the streetlights beside him, wide and shallow and slow-moving. The noise of the water is oddly relaxing, pulling his focus into a brief and sudden clarity. 

This car gives him too much freedom. He could drive out of the state, out of the country overnight if he felt like it. He could very well come back drunk and reckless and drive the thing into a tree. Or over an overpass. Or off a bluff.

It’s with an ironic sense of responsibility that Ben bursts from his car all at once and chucks his keys into the creek. He doesn’t see or hear where it lands. _There._ There’s some semblance of damage control. He’ll hate himself later for it, sure, but it’s done now. No more running. 

He locks his car, slams it closed, and moves on without another thought. He’ll deal with it later. ‘Later’ feels like a fictional concept to him, anyway, at this point.

The front door of the house in question is ajar, bass-heavy music seeping out. Ben steps in without a knock. No one would hear it. A heavy hand immediately clamps down on his shoulder.

“Ben’s here!” Cardo’s deep voice roars into the crowded living room, as though amused by his presence. He turns Ben around to face him. “We haven’t seen you in a while, Benny boy.” 

“Yeah, well. I’m here now.” He tugs his shoulder out from under Cardo’s meaty grasp.

“Yes you are,” Cardo agrees, tone slipping into strange, sudden seriousness. The silence lasts a beat too long. “Drinks are in the kitchen. Good to see you, man.”

Cardo’s always so weird. Ben scoffs it off under his breath and heads to the kitchen.

A few people he doesn’t recognize are hanging out there but none of them acknowledge him, so he starts pouring himself a drink without comment. He doesn’t recognize a lot of the mixers. He holds up a liter of soda to try and read the writing when suddenly a velvety voice hums thoughtfully from right beside him. He jumps a little.

“I don’t recommend that one.”

Ben blinks down. A girl. Long, jet black hair. He recognizes her— she works at the coffee shop near his house. She complimented him once on his _Clash_ t-shirt, he remembers.

“Uh— and why is that?”

She squints at it in thought and Ben notices again how pretty she is. Painted-pretty. Her eyelashes fan out so dramatically that they must be fake. Her lips are a deep plum color, perfectly outlined into shape.

“Mm, Josh likes all these Japanese sodas, so I mean… you might. But most everyone thinks the flavors are too weird to casually enjoy. More of a novelty thing.”

Ben looks again at the label. An illustration of strawberry cheesecake sits next to the Japanese brand name. Huh.

“I’ll take your word on that.”

She smirks. “Probably a good call. I’m Val.”

“Ben. I think you—”

“Took your order at Alta? Yeah, I remember.”

She remembers him. Okay.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Ben says, finding it in him to smile. “What would you recommend, then?”

“Doing a shot,” she says matter-of-factly with a throaty laugh. Val leans over the counter to grab the vodka. Ben looks away from the cleavage it puts directly in his line of sight. She pours two shots. “Cheers.”

It goes down easy and Ben realizes he could use about five more. 

He keeps talking with Val, their conversation getting louder and funnier with each shot. He doesn’t necessarily try to flirt with her, and she follows his lead, not necessarily flirting with him, either. But still, they talk for a long time, laughing all the while. They move to the dining room, then float slowly to the back yard.

He notices at some point that what he thought was a long sweater and skinny jeans is actually a short, tight long-sleeved dress with black tights. It sharply reminds him of the shock of Rey wearing a dress, earlier— something he’d only seen once before tonight.

She looked unearthly— beautiful unlike anything he’d ever seen. He’d been so selfish and distracted that he didn’t get to truly tell her. He never got to place his hand in the silky green dip of her waist or touch the perfectly soft-looking waves in her hair. He didn’t get to let her know how insane it’ll drive him for the rest of his life. How bad he wants her, always, and probably always will.

“Ben,” Val nudges, handing him a lighter. She puts a joint between her lips and cups her hands around it to block the breeze. 

He nods and helps Val light the thing, realizing the understated intimacy of the gesture but not wanting to be rude in refusing. When she passes it to him, all he can fucking see is Rey that first night, lying on the grass under the bleachers. Giggling up at him, smoke drifting. He takes a deep drag, and Val hums again in that way she does.

“They told me you’re still in high school,” Val says, accepting it back. “Is that true?”

“Yeah.” Things are starting to sway. That’s good.

“That’s weird. You don’t seem like you’re in high school.” She starts meandering this way and that in the yard with the joint, puffing on it and balancing with her arms out as though she were on a tight wire. Ben follows close behind, amused.

“What does that mean?”

Val stops and turns to face him, passing it over delicately. Smiling, pale blue eyes blinking. “I don’t know…” She sighs and considers him. Then, almost as though scientifically, she places her fingers on his shoulder, pressing gently into the muscle there. “That’s part of it.”

Ben laughs. He’s big, so what.

Val traces her soft hand up to his jaw, at which point Ben freezes. She doesn’t notice and lightly taps the faded scar there. “And that.” 

Then Val moves to the side, brushing back some of his hair and Ben reacts without thinking. He slaps her hand away, taking a step back in what he realizes too late undoubtedly comes off as utter disgust.

Val blinks, face having fallen flat. Shocked silence wedges its way between them, cold and solid. 

“…Wow. Okay, then.” She turns around on her heel, walks inside, and that’s the very last of it.

_Shit._

Ben stands there, his confusion over the interaction echoing back at him with no answer. He finishes the joint alone in the small empty yard, trying to process what just happened. It was an impulse. A feeling. _Not Rey,_ it said. If ‘ _Not Rey’_ was a feeling. He didn’t do it on purpose— no decision was made. It was a reflex, something more in his bones than his brain. He feels guilty, though. That was pretty fucked up; there are ways he could’ve handled it a lot better.

Realizing with annoyance that he can, in fact, still feel guilt, Ben heads back inside for more alcohol. He passes his friends yelling excitedly in the living room on the way and doubles back to meet them. He falls into a couch against the wall to watch them play some sort of drinking game around a table. No one seems to notice him enter, or if they do, they don’t acknowledge it.

He tries to work out the rules, but it’s moving far too fast. Vic glances over at one point, but when Ben meets his eye, he looks away quickly. Fucking wierdo.

Ben stares into space in the bleary peace, the barrage of voices in the house blending into one indistinct roar. It’s somehow half past one in the morning. Wasn’t it just sunset? Wasn’t he just watching the sun disappear from the street outside Rey’s house?

Thinking back, it really should have been the cold light of twilight that wrapped around them as they spoke. Instead, the last traces of late golden sun somehow managed to linger to meet her skin— and only hers. He swears it touched literally nothing else.

The warmth always seems to find her. It defies all logic and reason, but she simply warps natural law. The universe must love her as much as he does to bend and twist around her like that.

There’s a distant twinge in his chest as he remembers her crying. Ben did that. Ben made her cry.

He understands why now. He was lost in a cloud of hopeful and desperate delusion in the moment, but he understands why now. And yet she’d been so kind to him, she’d explained so gently. Thinking of how fucking _nice_ she was to him despite it all makes him want to throw up from the shame of it.

Maybe he should call her— just to leave a short explanatory voicemail, only a voicemail. He searches for his phone in his pocket, realizing quickly that he left the damn thing in his car. That’s right— the locked one, the one with the drowned keys that open it. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset about it, honestly. Maybe it’s for the best.

Ushar nearly falls backwards onto him while dodging someone’s empty cup, balancing himself out at the last second.

“Watch it,” Ben jokes. He gets a vague, noncommittal laugh in return. Ushar doesn’t even turn his head.

“Don’t crush Ben,” Kuruk calls, grinning from the far side of the table.

“Wasn’t gonna!” Ushar answers back, wedging himself back into the group. “Who has the ball?”

Kuruk jerks his chin at Ben to join them, but Ben waves him off.

Paying more attention now, Ben puzzles together the gist of the game. It’s essentially a cross between two truths and a lie and plain beer pong, except played much more aggressively than Ben has ever seen either played alone. His friends always make everything a competition when it doesn’t need to be, meaning actual competitions turn into something akin to bloodsport.

He watches for a round, laughing along with everyone when Aplek says three embarrassing things about Vic on his turn instead of three about himself. Vic protests, but Kuruk rules it acceptable. Ben would’ve agreed— there’s no rule that says the anecdotes have to be about yourself, but he’s surprised at how fast Vic accepts Kuruk’s word as law on it.

A fight almost breaks out at one point over a story about some girl named Sarah that Ben’s never heard of, but it’s swiftly put to rest when Kuruk throws Sprite in Cardo’s face mid-swing. Ben gets ready to intercede, expecting Cardo to beat the shit out of Kuruk for it, but it’s not necessary. He just storms away.

“That was me!” Trudge slurs loudly during Vic’s next turn.

“Nah, dude. You were on the roof, remember? I was the only one down there.”

“No, I remember! It was both of us! You were bitching about being sent without something to use to pick it. I said to you, I said— go find a hair pin or some shit, and you left. Then I fucking figured it out myself while you were gone!”

“No, no, no, I definitely was there when the door opened, I remember,” Vic frowns.

“Fuck off, you’re lying! Drink!”

“But that wasn’t my lie, that was the truth! I picked the lock on the door before we all went in!”

“Bullshit! I was there!”

Ben rolls his eyes. He remembers that day, and he’s getting tired of this.

“Oh my god, shut up— both of you!” Ben yells over the noise from his spot on the couch. Everyone at the table does. Like, immediately. “It was unlocked the whole time, you fucking idiots. You bumbled outside for twenty minutes before realizing it.”

The room remains abnormally quiet after he finishes. Those in the group who turned to look at him have an off-vibe about them that is impossible to get a further read on. It’s… awkward, he realizes. For whatever reason, Ben just made things in the room awkward. Finally, someone else speaks and the rest have an excuse to turn away again.

It’s Kuruk. “I guess both of you should drink, then, if Ben’s right. Go on.” They whine and shoot hateful glares at each other, but both drink so the game can move on. “Ushar, sub in for me.”

Ben watches Kuruk make his way around the table.

“Ben,” he greets, stopping right in front of him. He points. “Can I?”

Ben stares in annoyed confusion at the formality. “Uh… yeah? Knock yourself out.”

Kuruk does. “Where you been, man?”

“Busy.”

A snort. “What, with math club? Lacrosse? Come on.”

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Since when do any of them talk to him like this?

“Just curious. You’ve missed a lot, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben grunts.

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Cardo had a girl for a couple weeks. Aplek lost his scholarship and dropped out. Ushar moved in with me and Vic. I think that’s… oh yeah, and Trudge got jumped on Eighth Street.”

“Wow. Sorry I missed that.” Half-sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Kuruk hums thoughtfully. “I think they are, too.”

Is Kuruk for real? What, is Ben supposed to be their father now? Be present for all their milestones and booboos? He’s younger than all of them, for chrissakes. 

“Are you mad at me? For… being absent?” Ben asks incredulously.

“No.” Kuruk sits up straighter and leans forward, surprisingly genuine. “No, not at all.”

Ben relaxes. Good. After a satisfied pause, he adds, “I really have been busy.”

“I believe you. I know you’re still in school and everything.”

“Yeah.”

The table in the center of the room explodes into raucous laughter and stomping when Ushar gets called out on some lie Ben didn’t hear. Kuruk smiles wide at them.

“Fuck school, dude. Glad that's over. Hey, remember the time we took those edibles on that field trip to the science museum?”

Ben snorts. “Oh my god, yeah. You stared at an artificial tornado for like two hours. I thought you’d completely lost it, I was so scared I’d have to _tell_ someone.”

“Ha! What about the time we changed Cardo’s English grade?” 

“I'll always be proud of how we pulled that off,” Ben admits, grinning.

“Or the time we accidentally started that fire in the nurse’s office?”

“Oh my god,” Ben laughs. “I’m still not sure how we survived that one. Gibson was furious.”

“I know how,” Kuruk says. “You took the fall.”

Ben cocks his head, thinking back. “Did I?”

“Yeah. I had one strike left before I’d be expelled. It was a week before graduation. You offered to take the blame for both of us.”

It rings a bell. “Huh.”

“You’re a good guy, Ben. I’ve always liked you. It’s part of why we’ve all respected you the way we have.”

It’s nice, but it’s kind of a strange thing to say, Ben thinks. Maybe he’s just not used to talking like this. Maybe they’re just drunk.

“I dunno about that,” Ben mutters. “Thought it was fear.”

Kuruk laughs. “Yeah, I guess that’s part of it, but— we do. I do. Respect you, I mean. Sucks when you’re not around.”

Ben grimaces in apology.

“Kind of feels like maybe you’re just… tired.”

“Tired,” Ben repeats hollowly. That’s a word for it. “Yeah.”

Kuruk nods in understanding. “The guys lean on you in a way, though. Things are happening and you’re… gone, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees. He can’t argue with it. He hates it— hates that he’s part of this stupid group in the first place, honestly.

“I don’t think you want that from them anymore, though, do you? You don’t want it.”

Ben turns his head to peer at Kuruk, who is casually hitting the nail on the head. “…No. Guess not.”

Kuruk gives a sad smile and nods once, like deciding something. “I’m glad we had this talk, Ben, because I really do like you. You’re a smart guy, which is why I know you’ll understand this.”

“Understand what?”

“Obviously it’s nothing personal. But there’s a space here that needs to be filled— and like you said, it’s fear as much as friendship. You _get_ it.”

“Kuruk, what are you—?”

“I’ll make it quick, but I’ll have to do _some_ damage to make it worth anything. I won’t make it any worse than it needs to be. You’re a good friend, man. I just have to do this. I’m sorry. But I know you’ll understand.”

Ben does understand— a second too late.

Kuruk stands, yanking Ben up with him by the scruff of his shirt. “ALRIGHT.” 

The second Ben finds his feet, he’s shoved backwards.

“I’m _sick_ of this,” Kuruk growls, projecting to a dramatic volume. Performative. It’s effective— everyone in the room stops to what they’re doing to watch. “Sick of _you_.”

Then, wasting no time, Kuruk grabs Ben by the shirt again and punches him across the face. Ben is too stunned to fight back or even respond. Ringing pain radiates from his cheek and jaw. He blinks, vision swimming.

“Huh, Ben? Nothing to say now?”

Another hard shove. Ben’s back hits a wall— not a good place to be, he vaguely registers. 

He’s right. Another punch, this time to the gut, knocks the wind straight out of him. He coughs, trying and failing to recover his breath slumped against the wall. He gets a brief moment of reprieve from his attacker when shouts from the kitchen demand they be taken outside. The room seems to make a collective decision to obey all at once.

Only half-aware of it, Ben is jostled alongside everyone else out the front door and onto the lawn— an unwilling participant in a mass exodus. Someone other than Kuruk pushes him down onto his hands and knees on the grass outside. He doesn’t see who and he’s afraid to look. Trudge? Vic? It’s stupid, but the thought hurts.

Kuruk’s foot connects hard with his ribs. It hurts like hell, but Ben doesn’t topple. Another kick. Sharp breath hisses from between his teeth. That’s going to hurt for a long time. _Get on your feet,_ something hisses inside him. _Get up._

Kuruk lets him, standing back as Ben stands, keeping one arm protectively over his soon-to-be badly bruised ribs.

“Okay,” Kuruk snaps impatiently over the the chittering audience. He speaks directly to Ben, still using his crowd-voice but undeniably pointed. “I’ll make this fast so you can take the fucking message and go. Yeah?”

Ben glares, mouth full of blood from the first punch. He spits it to the side. _No._

He’s starting to reach for Kuruk’s shoulder— to hit him? hold him back? he honestly doesn’t have a plan— when his wrist gets grabbed midair and twisted. Hard. It’s a sharp, screaming kind of pain. Ben swears, but the word is cut off fast when a knee slams up into his stomach. _Fuck._ Only a wretched choking noise is able to escape his throat before he can cough and try for air again.

Kuruk steps back, looking sad and disgusted. “You’re done, Solo. This is done. Go.”

Ben straightens up from his pathetic crouch despite the pain of it. Kuruk watches, scowling. Then, after managing to shuffle a few feet over into a better, more open position, Ben finally put his hands up in some semblance of a fighting stance.

“Come on, Ben,” Kuruk groans— half for the audience, half to Ben. He’s not supposed to fight back. He knows that, and he doesn’t really feel like it, if he’s being honest— but it’s apparently hard-wired into him. He’s Ben fucking Solo, goddamnit, the king of monsters. The worst of the worst.

“ _Come on, Kuruk_ ,” he mimics in a snide, croaking voice. He tastes only blood. “It’s not done yet.”

Kuruk’s face hardens. After a cold beat, he launches himself forward and swings. Ben dodges it easily. 

Ben would be even sharper if he wasn’t totally drunk off his ass, but this is the set of reflexes he has to work with right now. Kuruk swings again, lower, and misses again. A frustrated growl rips out of him as he leans back and winds up for a third blow, opening him up for any choice of attacks. Ben chooses a sweeping kick to the knees, thinking strangely and proudly of Rey as he watches Kuruk slam down violently onto his back.

Ben smiles with bloody teeth at the sudden nervousness in the crowd and the murderous frustration in Kuruk’s eyes. He wriggles and scrambles from the ground like a spindly bug trying to get itself upright. Kuruk can fucking have the group; Ben doesn’t care. What the traitor _can’t_ have is a bloodless coup. A no-fight fight.

Ben waits patiently for Kuruk to get up. 

“This is it, Solo,” he grits.

“So it is.” They’re done with him. He gets it. There’s a lot of that going around.

Kuruk darts forward before Ben can react, hitting him in the same side of the ribs as before. Ben grunts, his side burning and flaring pain in pulses. 

“Come on, Ben,” Kuruk hisses into Ben’s ear as he’s hunched forward. “Don’t make this harder.” 

Ben shoulders him away in response, sending him stumbling back a step. 

Tired of playing around, Ben winds up and punches Kuruk across the face while he’s still unprepared. The noise, to Ben, is incredibly satisfying. A few people in the small crowd react audibly, though, as though in pain themselves. 

Unlike Dameron earlier that day, Kuruk takes it standing. His eyes cloud and refocus, but he stays planted on his feet. His face darkens, then— far beyond the simple frustration and coldness that was there before. In a voice low enough to stay between them, “You really don’t know how to take a fucking hint, do you?”

Ben stops. He said those exact words to Rey once. At the beginning of the school year, he said it through his teeth to make her go away. It’s like the universe is making him pay for his sins— and helpfully labelling them for him.

He’s distracted for only a split second by the horror of the memory, but it’s enough _._

It’s what allows the opening for Kuruk to wind back and hit him straight between the eyes with savage force. Something crackles terribly, and then there’s only blinding pain through the center of Ben’s face. It’s so sharp and overwhelming that it has its own sound, its own taste. Like metal and glass and screaming. _He broke my nose. He broke my fucking nose._

“Leave,” Kuruk barks, voice cracking. He shakes out his hand angrily. “Fucking _go_.” 

Considering Ben’s sudden inability to think no less fight, he does. For the second time that day, he just goes. Somehow he finds his way to the sidewalk and stumbles down it away from the house. Fuck Kuruk. Fuck all of them.

His face hurts so fucking badly he swears he could die from it. His mouth is still full of blood— now from within and without. He has no phone. He has no car. He has no friends. 

So Ben does the only thing he can. 

He starts walking home.

He doesn’t feel the cold. The adrenaline keeps him warm at first, and then, after that wears off, the very effort of walking with his injuries does the trick. There will be some raised eyebrows in the morning over the trail of blood he’s leaving through this nice suburban neighborhood. 

Only once he’s a few minutes away from his own neighborhood does the bleeding from his nose slow to a stop, or at least to a trickle. He’ll have to clean himself up real good before he sees his parents in the morning. They’ll have a lot to say about this regardless, but he doesn’t need the added panic of the blood and gore in the equation. His mom, especially, would freak out. Ben groans.

He still can’t believe she's here. When he came home early and saw both of their cars in the driveway… that’s when he flipped. That, if he had to choose, was the moment he decided he couldn’t do it. 

He _never_ sees them together anymore— one is barely enough for him to handle at a time. They _know_ that. The fact that they didn’t warn him… they were clearly about to spring something on him. They were going to fucking ambush him with something, he just knew it. They always do when they come together— that’s why Leia’s normally sneaky about it and parks around the corner so as not to scare him off.

_Ben, your father and I are together again. Ben, your father and I are separating again. Ben, you have to spend the summer with Uncle Luke. Ben, the lawyers need to speak with you. Ben, we got another call from your school. Ben, why are you like this? Ben, if you don’t get better you’ll have to go upstate. Ben, I can’t keep pulling strings for you. Ben, when will this stop? Ben, you’re breaking my heart._

So yes, he ran. He ran to avoid what was undoubtedly something far worse than he was ready to handle. It’s not fair. It’s not right. He was barely able to drag himself home to see Han. It’s betrayal, is what it is. 

But now there’s nowhere left to run. At least he’ll have the night to lick his wounds before they carve open another. Neither of them ever stay up past midnight as a rule, thankfully. He’s sure they’ll be surprised to see him home in the morning at all. He’s too drunk right now to truly feel the full dread of it, but it’s there. No amount of liquor could erase _that._

He finds the spare key under a stone toad in the garden and, as quietly as possible, fumbles through the front door.

_Paper towels and ice,_ Ben decides to seek first. He softly closes the door behind him and starts towards the kitchen. Suddenly being in an enclosed space like this is making his inebriated sense of balance much more noticeable. He slows down, trailing his fingertips along the wall to guide him.

“Ben?”

Ben’s heart plummets into his stomach. _No._ He turns his head. _No._

Han Solo is there, staring at him from his spot in his old favorite chair in the living room. Only one lamp is turned on beside him, softly illuminating a worn paperback book in his hand. He slips his reading glasses from his nose and sets the book down, brow creasing.

“Oh my god. Ben.”

Ben looks down at himself, following the trail of his father’s gaze. The front of his green shirt is absolutely drenched with blood. It looks pretty bad, Ben has to admit, but it was just from his nose, which seems to have stopped now. Still, it looks scary. He looks like he murdered someone. He looks like total hell.

Ben bursts into a short bout of laughter— a completely inappropriate but uncontrollable response.

Han stands up all at once. “What happened? Is that broken?”

Ben shrugs indifferently like he’s not still in shock from the sight of him. “Think so.”

Han frowns, then gestures to the kitchen. “Come on.”

He leads the way into the next room, flipping on the bright overhead lights as he goes. Ben winces, but his eyes adjust quick. They find his father with a small degree of terror.

His face is the same as he remembers— masculine, weathered, perpetually unimpressed— but definitely older. Is it possible for someone to look visibly older in the span of six months? It seems this way every time Ben sees him. His hair is the same gray, the lines in his face are more or less the same— it’s something in or around the eyes that does it.

Han wets some paper towels under the tap. “Sit down.”

Ben sits, almost falling backward off the kitchen stool. He corrects himself, clears his throat. 

Han glances at him knowingly. Looks back down. Cocks an eyebrow. “You look like shit.”

“You look old.”

“I _am_ old,” he scoffs. “What happened to you?”

“I got punched in the face.”

“You don’t say.” He holds up the damp paper towel. “I’m going to wipe away the blood now so I can see better.”

Ben doesn’t object, so Han steps forward and starts dabbing. He works in silence for a while, apologizing once when Ben flinches but not the second or third time. Ben, meanwhile, is afraid to open his mouth. If he does, he’s not sure what will come out. He’s not sure what he’ll say or if he’ll ever stop.

“Who punched you?”

“What, do you care?” Ben snorts automatically.

“Yes. I care, Ben.”

“Oh, sorry. Forgive me for doubting you.”

Han stops, upset. Eyes hard and serious. “I’m sorry I ever gave you cause, Ben. But I have always cared about you. Always.”

Ben swallows. They’re not even talking about anything specific, but just those few sentences feel closer to candid than anything they've said in years. He steers them away.

“You don’t know him,” Ben says, answering the previous question. “Name’s Kuruk.”

“Hm.”

Ben senses more dangerous honesty on the tip of Han’s tongue, so he swerves again.

“It’s kind of fucked up that you’re tending to my wounds, isn’t it?” _Since I gave you fifty times worse not too long ago._

Han sighs. “If you’re referring to what happened— stop.”

“Why?” Ben pushes snidely, drunk and reckless. It happened. Why does he pretend it didn’t? Why pretend it didn’t change everything? That this is all normal? That he isn’t violent, evil, irredeemable?

“Because nothing you could ever do to me could make me love you less.”

Ben’s face drops. It feels like his heart does, too. That’s not true. How could that possibly be true? His father had to have _three_ separate reconstructive surgeries after what happened. 

“And the fact that you look surprised right now means that I’ve done something wrong.” Han looks away, jaw flexing in an attempt at control. “Which, of course, I have. I did.”

Ben’s words dry up in his mouth. A core part of him leaves his body then, retreating far above himself to watch their conversation like a completely separate entity. Blurry.

“I deserved what you did. It’s not because I couldn’t forgive you that I haven’t said so until now; it was because acknowledging it meant it was real. What I did… That what happened to you was real. And I wasn’t ready to face the horror of that, which makes me a coward. Because you never had a choice.”

Ben finds his voice. “Stop.”

“Ben, I failed you.”

_“Stop.”_

“Please. Let me say now what I couldn’t then.”

Ben is frozen. Silent. Maybe about to throw up. Why is Han doing this? He presses on.

“I failed you, not the other way around. I… I let that man hurt you. You were a child, I was your father, and you tried to tell me. I couldn’t admit that because if I did— if I did, I had to admit that I didn’t hear you. That I didn’t stop it. That I _allowed_ it. That I left you alone. So when it came out and I refused responsibility and I… I said what I said— you were right. You were right to be angry. You were right to hurt me— hell, you would’ve been right to kill me, Ben.” His voice cracks, and he reaches to steady himself on the counter. “I mean that.”

Ben realizes that he’s _actually_ going to throw up. He can’t count how many times he’s spoken about this with Dr. Holdo, how many fake fucking letters he’s written to Han as exercise, how many conversations he’s had about it in his head. Now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel real. He was already feeling sick, but with the overwhelming nature of it all, not to mention the unexpected reminder of Snoke, he’s pushed over the edge.

He bolts around the kitchen island just in time to make it to the sink. He vomits into it, propping himself up over the thing with his hands braced on either side, upper body in tremors.

“Oh my god— Ben, what—?”

Ben retches again, then once more. After he takes a few breaths, he turns on the tap to rinse everything down with a wince.

“I’m okay,” he breathes, stuffed up. “Sorry.”

Han makes a relieved noise. “You scared me.” He watches Ben rinse his mouth with worried eyes. “Was that from… the drinking? Or… or me?”

“Both,” Ben admits, turning off the sink.

“Shit, kid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” says Ben. His throat burns.

“I just want you to know, and then I’ll stop.” Han’s brow furrows in concentration and determination. He’s seriously just going to keep going, Ben realizes weakly. He braces himself. “You’re right to… to hate me. That’s why I give you so much space. But I didn’t realize until recently— very recently, actually— that you thought that maybe— maybe I just _wanted_ to. That I was upset with you. And I’m not, Ben. Like I said— there is literally nothing on this earth that you could do to make me love you any less. And it’s my fault for not making that clear sooner.”

Ben flexes his hands on the granite counter, using the cold sensation as a focus point to anchor him in his body. His eyes burn, but he doesn’t let them water. This isn’t happening.

If he can believe what Han is saying, then they’ve been doing the exact same thing for the same reason for years— keeping distance over self-imposed guilt. Ben really is his father’s son, then. Poor communication and all. It’s an unbelievable relief, but… but Ben can’t drop the wall of anger just like that. 

It’s part of him now. That part might always be angry for what happened in the first place— for having nowhere to put the blame for it, for not-knowing not being a crime, for having lived it at all. But with the incident between Ben and his father, specifically— there _was_ blame to pass. And it only spread when Ben reacted with violence, and then again when both sides went silent. It just perpetuated itself and festered until now— until one nice confession asks Ben to somehow ignore the resulting rottenness living inside him. He can’t. There is still so much to be angry about. 

But at the same time, Ben has to admit that the relief in hearing his father’s words is real. He has to admit that he’s just as afraid as he is angry, because a part of him wanted to hear it more than anything. It still doesn’t erase the anger, though. But maybe it doesn’t need to. 

Someone once taught him that anger is just false strength.  That honesty takes bravery.  That the things worth the most are often the scariest.

She showed him that denying love that demands to be felt only leads to pain. 

And Ben knows that there is no guaranteed protection from pain in this world. He’s tired of hiding from it and running from it and trying to fight it off every day of his life. He wants to live now. He wants to start.

_‘You’re right to hate me,’_ his father had said. He can take that. He can start there.

“I don’t,” Ben says very quietly. “Hate you.” He shrugs to make the moment less dramatic, less scary.

The tension in Han’s face drops away. Something in his eyes turn over. Hope, Ben thinks. 

He sniffs, looks around. “Does my nose need or splint or anything, you think?”

Han’s posture lifts, his entire body language subtly rearranging itself to fit a man with life in him. “Let me look.” Han gestures for Ben to sit down again, and he does. 

And just like that, without any real acknowledgement, Ben’s entire world shifts.

Han inspects Ben’s wounds with great care and delivers his prognosis: no splint necessary for the nose. Instead, he grabs Ben some ice in a kitchen towel and orders him to use it as a compress while he finds the ibuprofen. Other than his nose and a split lip, Ben’s injuries will mostly end up as bad bruises. His face especially will look pretty fucked up with a black eye or two as a result of the nose.

“I broke my nose when I was around your age,” Han muses as Ben swallows down the painkillers. “Maybe a little older.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t from a fight. It was from loose cargo sliding around— I blamed Lando. Told everyone he gave it to me so it sounded like I was in a real fight.” He laughs and scratches behind his ear. “Your mother called me out on it. Still don’t understand how that woman smells lies.”

Ben doesn’t realize he’s smiling until his lip starts bleeding again. “Fuck.” Han hands him a paper towel. “Thanks.” He dabs at it. Glances up at the ceiling— at the second floor. “Uh, speaking of… Why is she here?”

Han sighs. “You saw that?”

“Came home early. Her Buick was still in the driveway.” She hadn’t hidden it yet.

Han nods, rubs his jaw. “I’m sorry. I wish she wouldn’t do that— but it’s nothing bad.”

Ben scoffs.

“It’s not. Reelection is coming up and she’s considering stepping down and endorsing Korr Sella in her place. She wanted to talk to us about it because it would mean a lot of changes.”

“Oh,” says Ben. So they're not disowning him or something. That’s good.

“Yeah. She wanted to catch both of us while we were in one place. I leave for Kijimi tomorrow.”

“Kijimi? For a job?”

“Yeah. It’s a hell of a place, but…” He stops mid sentence and looks to Ben with an idea dawning on his face. “Do you want to come with me?”

Ben laughs. “What, to Kijimi?” 

“Yeah. It’s a simple job— we drive up, deliver, drive back. It’s all already arranged. Just the journey’s left.”

“Isn’t that like a two or three day drive from here?” Ben asks like it’s important, but he’s less concerned with the length of the trip than with the simple fact that _his dad wants to bring him on a job_. They haven’t done something like that since he was twelve years old.

Han shrugs. “We’d be back by Friday.”

Ben’s not sure why this feels so absolutely insane to him, but it does. He can’t believe his dad actually is actually asking this. “I— I have school.”

“Oh, come on, we’ll make an excuse. I could really use the company. Plus, you’re a smart kid— you’ll be fine. Remember the fun we used to have?”

Ben smiles in spite of himself. He does.

“Besides— you can drive now. You can help out so I can actually get some sleep. I’m an old man now, I need my damn eight hours.”

“Yeah.” Ben’s smile falters. It’s almost three in the morning right now. “Eight hours? You were up reading when I got home.”

Han scowls. “What? Reading?”

“When I came home, you were sitting in the living room, reading. Why were you up?”

“Oh.” A long pause. “I was waiting. Not reading— not really. Dumb book.”

_Waiting?_ "For me?”

Han nods. 

Ben has disappeared on his father many times before on their planned visits— a couple times Han has even had to leave Chandrila without seeing Ben at all because he’d stay gone for so long. It’s part of why they’ve only seen each other five times since the incident— more visits were scheduled, but Ben continually ruined them. 

Ben’s not proud of any of it, but he’s also pretty sure he’s never once run away and come back in the same night. Han should really know not to wait.

“…Why?”

“Because,” Han smiles, “a very determined young woman came and told me to.”

Ben freezes. “What?”

“Yeah— brown hair. Yay high. Fancy green dress. Very opinionated.”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah, that girl really isn’t afraid to—”

_“—Dad!”_ Ben barely registers himself flippantly call Han ‘dad’ to his face for the first time in years. He only cares that— that— “You _saw_ Rey? She came here?”

Han shrugs in obvious affirmation.

“When? When was this?”

Han glances at the kitchen clock. “I don’t know. One? She stayed for an hour or so.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ben presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. Rey came here and he missed her. He missed her by less than an hour. “What happened? Why was she here? What did she say?”

“Oh calm down, kid,” Han says with a smirk in his voice. What, is this entertaining to him? Ben feels sick in a whole new way and it hits him like a truck.

“I swear to god I—” His breath catches in his throat. He’s about to lose it. The events of the day are catching up to him all at once, and the buffers that normally emotionally distance him from his own life have up and vanished. He’s not sure why or whose fault it is, but Ben is fighting tears— something entirely unfamiliar and humiliating. _Rey was here._ “Please— please just tell me.”

Han’s face drops in realization of how distressed this is actually making Ben. “I will— I’m sorry. I will. Of course. Uh…” He hesitates for a second, not sure what to do with himself. Then, quickly, he takes a seat at the kitchen counter beside him. “Well, she knocked. I answered. She was all dressed up. I told her you weren’t here, but she said she knew and that she was here to talk to _me_. She, uh. She told me about how you were planning to escape to the lake house.”

Ben holds in a wince. She told on him— not that he blames her. “Was she alone?”

“Yeah, why?”

Ben was upset at the time at the idea of her turning back to her friends— of her wanting them more than him. Now he only feels guilty that she clearly left them in the middle of their night together to… what? Take care of him? Maybe she felt responsible for his safety. The thought hurts; he never wanted that.

Han takes his lack of response in stride. “Well, she told me that’s what you said. But when I told her I thought that you wouldn’t respond well if I went after you—” _True._ “— She just told me to sit down.” Han barks a laugh. “Can you imagine? Seriously. ‘You should sit down.’ Like we were in her office.”

Ben manages a tiny smile. A flicker of warmth. He can imagine.

“So she came in, sat herself on the couch. Explained that’s not what she meant— she wasn’t suggesting I go up there to get you. She said she thought you’d come back, so I should wait. That way someone would be here when you showed up, I guess.”

Ben blinks. He can’t even begin to process the implications of that, because it simply doesn’t make any sense in the first place. “But she couldn’t know that.”

Han shrugs, nodding at the floor beneath Ben. “Looks like she did.”

Ben turns and stares in the general direction of the refrigerator in confusion. Rey saw him— she _saw_ him running. He left their encounter flightier than he came into it. They fought— she told him to leave, for crying out loud, and he did. What made her think that he would turn around for any reason? Why would she even care? And how was she so convinced of it as to come to his house at one in the morning for it? It makes absolutely no sense. Ben never planned to turn around even if he eventually did, so how could she anticipate it?

How? How did she know?

Well, the answer has to be that she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly, not actually. She just believed it. 

…She believed it. Rey believed he would do the right thing. For whatever reason, she believed he would overcome his stupid internal bullshit and turn around and face his father the way he needed to. She believed that he would make the right choice before he even considered making it.

And what’s more is that she believed it even after seeing him at his worst, after enduring what he said to her, after seeing what he did to her friends. She still believed it so strongly that she made a point of getting his father to believe, too. 

There was no guarantee she’d be right. Still, she chose to believe that he was a better man than he or anyone else ever thought he was. 

And she was right. Ben almost laughs— she was right, but only because of her. Thinking back, it was all because of her.

He couldn’t run off to the lake like he’d planned because she deconstructed his delusion of it. 

He couldn’t bring himself to flee the city if it meant pulling himself too far out of her orbit. 

He threw his own fucking car keys into a creek so that _she_ wouldn’t have to wake up to news of some senator’s dead son. 

Her very existence made it impossible for him to fuck the first pretty girl that made eye contact with him for an easy distraction. 

Once upon a time he might have snapped and killed the guy who picked a fight like the one Kuruk did, but not anymore— not after knowing her. 

He walked towards home instead of away from it when all was said and done, and it was the traces of Rey Niima in his choices that led him there. 

“She stayed for a while to ‘wait with me,’ but I made her let me drive her home. She kept falling asleep in the corner of the couch,” Han says, smiling fondly at the memory.

This detail would kill him if he imagined it for too long, but it’s not why Ben feels incapable of speech, not why his heart is pounding in his ears. It feels like the sky has split wide open, making everything suddenly and perfectly clear. 

This whole time he’d been thinking of himself as a toxic deadbeat trying to worm his way into her affections— a lowlife leech, wanting from her something he never thought he could return. At first he hid the feeling, fought it, denied it. He never really considered that he could change it. He never considered that _he_ could change.

Ben may not exactly be a good person, and he certainly isn’t ‘healed’ or even healthy, but… he isn’t the same person he was before all of this, either. In some small but fundamental way, knowing Rey has made him something more than he was before. The very act of loving her has changed him, made him stronger.

The clarity Ben has lacked for so long now sings in his veins— he knows what he has to do.

“I’ll go to Kijimi with you.” Seeing Han’s face, he clarifies. “I want to go to Kijimi with you.”

“Really?”

Ben takes a breath. “Yeah.” 

It’ll be uncomfortable, but it’s what he would do if he knew he couldn’t be afraid. The most important things are often the scariest— and this is important. No more running. No more hiding.

Han beams and laughs once in delight. “This is— this is great. I’ll talk to your mother, so don’t worry about that. But I'll admit, I don’t know how the school works when it comes to—”

“I can take care of it.” It’ll be easy enough to talk his way into getting a note for an excused absence from Dr. Holdo when they get back, and he’ll just take care of whatever assignments he can tonight. They’re really doing this, then. A little wave of actual excitement rises in Ben.

“I’ll take your word on that. But I do think we should stop by an Urgent Care on our way out of Chandrila in the morning, just to double check your nose.” Ben concedes with a shrug-nod. “Good. We have to leave at… oh. Shit. Eight. That’s in five hours. Do you think you can you do it?” 

Ben laughs. “Yeah, I can do it.” He’s the king of no sleep. “But there’s something else I need to do on our way out.”

Han nods him on. “Okay.”

“Do you remember Armitage Hux?”

It takes a second, but his dad’s happy glow dampens slightly. “From Luke’s school?”

“He goes to Chandrila now. I need to stop by his house before we leave.”

Han looks torn on whether to bother with the myriad of questions fighting in his eyes. “I mean sure, kid. But… why?”

"I need to ask him a favor,” he explains. “And… I locked my phone in my car. So.”

“You what?”

Ben sighs. “I got locked out of my car— I can tell you more about it later, but that’s what happened.”

Han looks just as confused as before, but shrugs anyways in good faith. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

Ben smiles gratefully. “Thank you.” He stands and starts towards the stairs, mind going a million miles a minute. “I just have some stuff I have to do here before we go.”

“Ben, wait.”

Ben turns at the landing.

Han looks uncomfortable but intent, frowning at the steps in concentration. “It’s just— the girl. Rey. She’s special.” He meets Ben’s eye. “You know that, right?”

Ben laughs, guilt and nerves and hope swirling together in one massive cyclone at the sound of her name.

“Yeah, Dad. I know.” 

They have a lot to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VIBES: "It's Not My Fault, I'm Happy" by Passion Pit and "No Rest For the Wicked" by Lykke Li [x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ)
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


	9. when you love somebody then you stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey starts filling in blanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***tw/cw: reference/mention of past CSA***

Rey is staring blankly into her closet when her phone dings. 

Rose Tico

7:40 AM

hey girl!! I’m gonna sit with Paige at lunch today to plan the UNICEF booth, wanna come with??

She smiles at the screen.

Rey Niima

7:40 AM

thanks rose <3 but i’m really fine, i’m not afraid of poe

Rose Tico

7:41 AM

didn’t think you were!

Rose Tico

7:41 AM

just thought maybe you’d rather be away from him? plus, then we can really talkkkk~

Rose wants so badly to know what the deal with Ben is. They all do. 

She gave the group essentially zero real information about her and Ben after what happened on the night of dance— as little as she could possibly get away with. She was too wound up to make any kind of decision involving him, and telling others about them was, in fact, a big decision— one she wouldn’t make. She didn’t know which way was up, honestly, and therefore refused to lean in any direction at all. She half-apologized to Poe who half-apologized back, and then all four of them went to the dance as planned. The drive was pretty tense, but they went all the same.

Rey had an okay time. She split off from her friends almost immediately, though, seeking out literally anyone else. She danced with Kaydel for a bunch of songs, took photos with Beau and Tallie, and talked to Jess for a while. She spotted Poe surrounded by girls swooning over the bruise forming around his eye at one point. Good for him for getting something out of losing a fight that he picked. 

She even went to Cal’s party afterwards like she said she would. She was only three drinks in, however, when she found herself compelled to leave without bothering to tell anyone. As though she were possessed, her aching feet took her the five blocks straight to Ben Solo’s doorstep. As angry as she was with him, it was all she could think about. He had to be okay. He had to come home, he had to— and maybe he already had.

His father had been to the one to open the door, though, and with no Ben in sight. It didn’t surprise her. But, not about to just turn around and leave after everything, she took the opportunity to talk to Mr. Solo one-on-one instead, finding that she had a lot more to say to him than she ever thought she did. Surprisingly, he listened.

She insisted that Ben would return because she was sure of it, herself. It was just a feeling, but a strong one. She knew he didn’t go far. He would come back. He would. She’d be pissed as hell when he did, but he would.

There were other possibilities, of course— ones that made Rey feel sick to think about. It was just that she’d never seen Ben upset like that before, and he’s always been the kind of person to take emotion and turn it into chaos and harm and… destruction. Simply knowing that scared her.

She admits it was beyond scary when she heard that terrifying pre-explosive tremor it in his voice, when he capped it so cleanly and coldly at a moment’s notice, and then when he left and she realized she’d left him _alone_ with it.

But it was okay. It would be fine— no, it _was_ fine. He wouldn’t do anything stupid. He would come back. He wouldn’t go far, he wouldn’t get in trouble, he wouldn’t get hurt, he wouldn’t hurt himself. He’d be fine. He’d come back to her and she would properly tell him off and he would apologize and hold her and they would figure it out. He would.

She next remembers waking up on the couch in his living room, Mr. Solo’s gruff but kind voice telling her he’d take her home. She didn’t want to go, but she did.

Finn was pissed when she got back, whisper-yelling that he thought she got abducted or something. _‘I thought something bad happened to you, Rey! You just can’t just disappear like that! You could’ve been dead in a fucking ditch for all I knew!’_ Rey burst into tears at his words. She couldn’t explain why and she couldn’t stop. She promised not to do it again between sobs and tore away into her own room, eventually falling asleep with one bitch of a headache.

The whole next morning she spent pretending she wasn’t waiting for him to call or text. It was ultimately useless, though. She declined a lunch invitation with Jess and Rose out of her inability to focus on anything other than hearing from him. She couldn’t convince herself that she cared any less than she did, so she threw out all pretense and resigned herself to waiting around at home where she could be as crazy about it as she pleased. 

At some point, however, Rey realized that if something truly horrible had happened to Ben, she would’ve heard about it by now. Her worry turned to anger and she sat fuming on her bed for the rest of the day, wearing the jerk’s sweater and refusing to contact him first. He fucked up, not her. She shouldn’t have to ask for remorse. If he’s not sorry, then he’s not sorry. Maybe he doesn’t care as much about her as he made her think he did. Guys supposedly do that sort of thing all the time.

She took off the sweater at the end of the day and hung it in the very back of her closet, out of sight and mind. Wearing it was starting to feel like a betrayal of her self-respect. 

So when Monday morning came, it felt like even more of a betrayal when it was the only thing she wanted to reach for. Rey just wanted comfort and it was is the most comforting she had— it was no deeper than that. But it wouldn’t make sense to wear it if it belonged to the reason she needed comfort in the first place… right? 

It didn’t matter, she realized. She couldn’t wear it because she was going to see him today at school and she doesn’t need him thinking it’s some sort of sign that they’re good again. Or worse— some sort of sign that she didn’t get his hint, the one that was supposed to make it clear that he’s done with her.

So now Rey is staring at her closet, wondering what kind of outfit says ‘I don’t fucking care if you think I’m disposable’ but also ‘wait, but actually if this is a misunderstanding, please come back.’Preferably something warm, too.

That’s when Rose texts, subtly baiting Rey to avoid the boys and spill her secrets to her. Rey sighs.

Rey Niima

7:42 AM

would you actually mind sitting with us today instead? i kind of need to make sure everything’s okay between everyone and i’d feel better if you were there

Rey Niima

7:42 AM

that is only if the unicef thing isn’t totally crucial of course

Rey Niima

7:42 AM

isn’t that club normally on wednesdays?

Rey throws on some dark jeans and a soft red sweater. The shops in town have slowly started decorating for the holidays and she figures she could used some forced cheer right now, too.

Rose Tico

7:43 AM

yeah, it is normally! we’re just meeting to plan ahead for Friday

Rose Tico

7:43 AM

but Paige honestly has it covered, I’m not even on the board tbh so they can suck it. I’ll totally sit with you guys!

Rey Niima

7:43 AM 

thank youuu <3

Rey Niima

7:44 AM

and what’s friday, should i know? 

She leaves her hair down, maybe as some forethought subconscious reminder of the progress she has made by herself. Ben or lack of Ben can’t topple her. Hair down, power up. 

Rose Tico

7:44 AM

the winter fundraising fair! they have it every year, all the clubs do it

Rey Niima

7:45 AM

WHAT

Rey Niima

7:45 AM

ok 1, what is with this town and fuckign fairs? and 2, why didn’t i know about this?? robotics should’ve participated!

Rose Tico

7:45 AM

lol Rey, you guys are. Andrea’s been organizing it

Fucking Andrea. Passes all the responsibility to Rey except when it has to do with easy things or money. Rey wonders if she should be offended.

Rey Niima

7:45 AM

damn, ok. guess i’ll just show up friday and surprise her then. you know, me— the fucking club TREASURER

With a mean laugh, Rey leans into her mirror and brushes on some mascara. She uses a little under-eye concealer, too. No one needs to know she’s been crying as often as she has— and without covering it, it reflects directly on her face, unfortunately. 

Rose Tico

7:45 AM

LOL easy tiger, we’ll figure it out. see you at lunch?

Finn yells from the living room to hurry up, they’re leaving.

Rey Niima 

7:45 AM

yeah, ily rose. see you at lunch xx

Her morning classes all pass at torturous speed. All she can think about is what she’ll say to Ben when she sees him, or what he’ll say first— if anything. Maybe he’ll just go back to ignoring her. 

It’s not unlikely, Rey thinks, because here’s the timeline the way she sees it: They met, had fun for a few hours at a fair. He decided to publicly deny acquaintance with her in the very next setting they found themselves in, albeit for a contradictory reason. He ignored her entirely for months, making her feel like shit— again, even if for backward reasons. He came on to her hard out of nowhere at a party and practically begged to take her home. The next day he basically acted like nothing happened. They got partnered up for a school assignment and it let them get along really well for a week. They got warm and personal with each other one morning and kissed and it was nice, but hours later he was having a breakdown on her front lawn, punching her friends, and using his personal insight into her trauma to say hurtful things. He disappeared without apology. He hasn’t contacted her at all. He stopped making any effort.

Looking back, Rey has to admit that her stupid fucking adoration of Ben Solo has likely blinded her to the real situation here. Her entire life she’s been passed from person to person. Sometimes she’s a responsibility, sometimes she’s a burden, sometimes she’s just useful until she’s not. It’s a pattern. She’s learned that, generally, there is an expiration date on how long people want you or care. She’s not sure why she thought there would be an exception. 

Ben opened up to her and listened to her in turn, yes. He said some nice things. But it seems obvious to her now that this whole thing was, at the bottom line, nothing to him. Maybe not nothing, but nothing like what it was to her, at least. Why else would all these highs and lows be so random? Why else is _something_ always followed with cold, blank nothing with him?

She doesn’t think he’s playing her. What she actually suspects is worse, in a way, and makes it hard to hate him even now. Rey truly believes that he’s been genuine in all their moments together. It’s just that when she steps back and looks at everything as a whole… it just doesn’t seem like any of it mattered to him the same way it has to her. Maybe that’s her fault for expecting anything different. It makes sense that someone who feels things so intensely would care so much in a single moment and stop the next. 

And maybe she’s crazy and wrong, but it fits the way Rey had learned the world to be. She honestly doesn’t know how she didn’t see it before. The worst part is that she still wishes it could be different, because she should know better at this point. She’s just not the kind of person that someone else would ever really, truly love. Apparently she was due for a reminder.

She doesn’t know what to do with everything she felt for him. Where does it go now? Where does she put it?

At lunch, Rey goes to her friends like she said she would, her entire chest feeling heavy and achy. But it’s time to make peace.

The conversation at the table ceases when she drops in to sit beside Finn.

“Hey, peanut.”

“Hey.”

Poe is sitting across from them, his bruised eye and cheekbone full of new colors that weren’t there the last time she saw him.

“Hi,” she offers him.

“Hi,” he returns.

Awful silence.

Rey clears her throat. “I didn’t see you guys that much at the dance. How was it?”

“Yeah, good,” Poe says carefully. “I won a Dave and Buster’s gift card in the raffle.”

Finn snorts. Poe smirks at him, snapping a carrot between his teeth.

“Did you?” Rey frowns between them. 

“Yeah, he did,” Finn clarifies. “So did Rose, actually. We’re not sure why that’s all they had as prizes. It was kind of a running joke.”

So Rey missed a new inside joke. Wow. How ever will she live?

She forces a smile. “Wow, yeah. That’s bizarre.”

“What about you?” Finn elbows her.

“Oh, yeah. I had lots of fun. The, uh— photo booth was really cool.”

“Yeah, I heard. When we tried, the line was like twenty people long,” Poe says.

Rey relaxes a little. He said something to her voluntarily. That’s a good sign, right?

“Did you see Jess and Phas?” Finn grins.

“Yeah, I did!” She talked to Jess for a long while that night. “They looked great. Jess looked happy.”

“If only I should be so lucky in love,” Poe sighs. 

“You seemed to be doing pretty well,” Rey laughs. “I saw you with a little posse of sophomores.”

Finn guffaws under a hand, mouth full of ham and cheese but nodding his corroboration.

“What can I say? I must have a natural charisma. I can’t tell you what it is.”

“I think it might’ve had something to do with the eye,” Rey teases, taking her first bite of sandwich. 

_Oh no. Wrong thing. Wrong thing to say._

Poe doesn’t look particularly amused. Finn doesn’t look at either of them, pretending to be busy with his ziplock bag.

“I just mean—”

“Hey guys!”

“Rose!” Rey breathes in relief as her friend sits straight across from her, beside Poe. 

It takes a second, but Rey feels a twinge of annoyance. It’s not _her_ fault Poe got punched. Honestly, he quite earned that one all by himself. He has no reason to be weird about it as though she were to blame.

“What’s up?” Rose beams.

Rey makes a split decision, leaning forward. “I was just saying how the ladies love a good bruise. Don’t they, Poe?”

“Yeah,” he smiles tightly when everyone looks at him for a response. “I guess they do.”

Rose laughs it off and starts asking everyone their plans for Friday. Poe’s going to be working the debate club’s ring toss but Finn is completely unattached. He’ll either hang out with Rose at the UNICEF booth or roam around for fun. Rey shrugs and tells them she’ll have to talk to Andrea before she knows where she’ll be.

Finn talks about football for a while. Poe talks about his hatred of his history teacher next. Rey stays quiet. Rose gives her a significant look.

Ugh. Fine. 

“Hey, so… Saturday." She looks to Rose, who nods encouragingly. “It was… bad. I know. And I know it kind of came out of nowhere, and that it was probably made worse because none of you guys really knew what was happening, which is partially my fault, and… I had some stuff I clearly didn’t tell you. And, uh, it probably didn’t help that I wouldn’t really talk about it after. So, you know, I’m sorry about that.”

No one seems to know how to respond to this. Honestly, she doesn’t blame them. She heard herself— she still offered zero answers, but what is she supposed to tell them? What would she even say? Things are only more complicated now than they were then.

“I know you must have your reasons, Rey,” Rose says kindly when no one else does. “And you know I’m here for you.” She looks pointedly at the boys, subtly raising her eyebrows. 

“Same here,” Finn says. “Everything’s okay, I guess, so we’re good. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want, but I hope you do. Whenever you’re ready.”

Poe sits up, arms crossed. “Okay, we’re talking about Ben, right? Is that what we’re all dancing around right now?”

Rose starts to chastise him, but Rey stops her by raising a hand. 

“Yes— Ben.”

“Oh my god, this is so—” He huffs and half-rolls his eyes. “I told you I was sorry.”

“Yes, you did,” she affirms calmly. She remembers. He was concussed and insincere and mumbly. 

“Well, I am. I obviously started a fight that I shouldn’t have, at least not there and then. I admit that. I’m sorry, I just hate the guy.”

“I don’t care that you hate him.”

Poe nods. “Good. Thank you.”

“You should just stay away from him.”

Poe _hmphs_ , interpreting it as a helpful suggestion. “Yeah, probably. Getting in fights isn’t good or healthy, blah blah. I know I should chill, believe me. But I mean, the guy just taps into something weird and dark, you know?” 

He sighs thoughtfully and contentedly eats another carrot.

“Right, okay,” Rey nods with barely masked impatience, then repeats herself. “Just stay away from him.”

“It’s fine. He got me, obviously, yeah. But I was wearing a suit, okay? My mobility was fucked. It would _not_ happen again. And I’m not gonna cower if it comes to it.”

“No, Poe,” she tries again, enunciating. “You need to leave him alone.”

He snorts. “Or else what, you think he’s going to kill me? I’d like to see him try.”

“No,” she says, “but I will.”

She surprises herself by how easily she says it. All three of her friends freeze, staring at her.

Poe laughs and blinks through the confusion. “Sorry— what?”

“Let me say it like this: If you ever even think about trying to hurt him again, I swear to god I’ll make sure you fucking regret it. However I can.”

Finn makes a high-pitched sound in his throat like a laugh, but all scratched up. “Holy shit.”

Rose turns her wide eyes on Rey. Rey can’t get herself to return the look, not while she’s in kill mode.

“Poe,” she prompts, her tone deceptively laid back. “Are we good?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, looking back and forth between the other two like they might back him up. “You’re not even— you can’t— he’s not—”

“It’s really simple.”

“Is this a joke?” he bursts. _Wow, he’s really having a hard time with this._

“Poe,” Rose murmurs in his ear, “it’s obviously not. Just talk to her.”

“Rey. You’re serious?” he implores. The words are lower this time. More honest.

“I’m serious.” No elaboration. 

He sits back, and she can see him thinking. “He’s really that important to you?”

No hesitation. "He is."

Everyone absorbs this for a minute. Rey guesses this was inevitable.

Finn turns to her quietly. “Is that why… Are you guys like, together?”

She feels her face flood with heat. She ignores him. “Poe, are we good?”

He looks sad, even a little embarrassed now. His words have lost their usual cocky-charismatic edge. “Yeah, Rey. I’m sorry. I didn’t— I’m sorry. We’re good.”

Satisfied, she nods and stands up. There’s still about seven minutes left in the lunch period, but she can’t be here anymore.

“I have to talk to Mr. Q about something,” she says. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Wait,” Rose pleads.

“I’ll text you,” Rey throws over her shoulder dismissively as she walks away.

“Did you know?” she hears Finn ask Rose under his breath as she goes.

“No,” she whispers back sadly. “I didn’t even know she knew him in the first place.”

Maybe now Rey will have to watch them all slowly forget that she knew him at all. 

She’s the first one to class, leaving her the excruciating opportunity to stand for two minutes and agonize over whether to sit in her original seat by the window or her more recent one next to Ben. She ultimately chooses Ben’s for a few reasons— one, she actually likes it better. Two, he shouldn’t influence her decisions. And three, they’re presenting their word projects today so Mr. Q will likely expect the teams to sit together, anyway.

She resists the urge to look up at the door every time someone walks in, but as the class grows fuller and fuller and still no tall black-clad boy sits beside her, her anxiety cranks up regardless. Some people chatter with excitement over their projects, others grumble pessimistically about them. Rey is finding it hard to care about it at all.

The bell rings and Ben is still nowhere to be seen. Rey’s heart goes from sprinting in manic circles to sinking to the bottom her stomach in a matter of seconds. Mr. Q is calling for everyone’s thumb drives, but Rey waits behind everyone else in case Ben is just a little late.

But of course Ben isn’t just a ‘little late—’ he never is— and Rey has to go up alone, being the only one left.

“I think Ben is absent today,” she tells Mr. Q as he transfers her photos onto the school computer. “So I guess our project is technically late if I’m only turning in half of it.”

Mr. Q has a delayed response, distracted by someone being obnoxious on the far side of the room.

“Sorry, Ms. Niima, what? You’re half late?” He laughs at himself. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I was just saying that Ben isn’t here to turn in his half of the assignment, so…”

“Oh yes, Ben. I got his email, don’t worry. I have them.”

“Oh,” Rey says, miffed. So Ben thought to contact Mr. Q and not her. “Great. Cool. Nevermind, then.”

She gets her thumb drive back and returns to her lonely seat in the very back just as the slideshow of the class’s work begins.

Some of the projects hold her attention— the handful that are weird, funny, or exceptional, namely— but honestly, most of them meld together. The images blur, the discussions over them blend, and Rey just sits there in silence, realizing with chilling finality that she has officially been abandoned. 

She suspected it before, but now it’s all but confirmed. Ben doesn’t care and probably never really did, not outside of their strange and sporadic flares of passion. He’s not even here. She feels like an idiot. Despite seeing this coming for two full days, Rey thinks she’s going to cry right here, right now— in a suburban fucking high school art elective class over a boy not loving her. 

Rey has survived so many horrible things in her life that were undoubtedly much worse than this, but she doesn’t remember any of them hurting even half as bad. How ridiculous. How ridiculous that she feels like she might completely fall apart over something so mundane and cliche and ultimately unimportant.

She doesn’t, though— fall apart. Like always, whenever Rey feels an inch from total collapse, something deep inside her pulls itself up and goes entirely calm at the very last second. Like always, she’ll survive. Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t have a choice. It’s exhausting.

The entire class is laughing about something, but Rey doesn’t hear it at first. With some effort, she tunes back in. On the projector is Cal and Paige’s project. Everyone must be laughing about the third word— ‘beauty.’ Paige’s photo is a perfectly-composed frame of a massive, ornate, ancient-looking cathedral. Cal’s is a surprisingly tasteful and artistic close-up of a nicely-shaped woman’s backside in a very short skirt walking past that same cathedral. 

“This is wonderful,” Mr. Q exclaims over the noise, grinning. “This is exactly the sort of thing I was hoping to see. Well done, you two, well done.”

The next pair’s work is rather plain in Rey’s opinion, but she’s pleasantly surprised to see the entire class engage with their work with the same degree of enthusiasm. The pattern continues, every student apparently in good enough spirits to actively participate in a way Rey has never seen from them before. This is a poor choice of class to be sad for, she thinks bittersweetly. It feels like it would’ve been fun.

“Up next— Rey and Ben!” Mr. Q exclaims excitedly, clicking around his desktop. The class hums with its continuous energy. Rey shrinks in her chair. She doesn’t want to be here for this, honestly. She doesn’t really want to stare at reminders of what she thought she had and listen to everyone talk about it.

The words appear first in a column down the center of the slide: _balance, fate, hope._ Some people react audibly to just the words themselves with interest or excitement _._

Rey’s name appears at the top of the left column, Ben’s on the right. Following the established pattern, the photos of the left-sided person appear first in a column under their name— her name.

_‘Rey.’_

_Balance._ Crescent Cove. The frame is half black, jagged mussels from the cavern, half bright purple flowers with velvety petals.

_Fate._ Downtown Chandrila. A man and a woman bumping shoulders in front of a post office, everything around them blurred beyond recognition.

_Hope._ Lake Naboo. A time-lapse of the gorgeous landscape at sunrise.

She hears some people quietly comment to those around them on her work— she can’t make out the words, but it sounds positive from the collective tone. She has to admit it perks her up. It’s nice to have something you made be recognized and liked, even on a shitty day like today. Maybe especially on a shitty day like today.

After a healthy five-count, Mr. Q triggers Ben’s photos to drop into their column on the opposite side of the screen.

It takes less than three full seconds for the entire class to see it and go dead silent.

Rey stops breathing.

“Wow,” Mr. Q says nervously to fill the silence.

Every single photo is of her. _Every single photo is of her._

Each one is just as technically skillful as it is strangely and shockingly intimate.

Rey thinks she might pass out.

_‘Ben.’_

_Balance._ Crescent Cove. A medium shot of Rey in profile, sitting and looking out at the ocean. Behind her is a solid wall of dark grey sky and beige sand. Ahead is paler grey and glittering blue-black water, a single beam of sunlight shining on her face. The ghost of a rainbow lingers faintly the upper lefthand corner. Her body splits the frame in half, making the left and right look like completely different settings. The tiny bit of sun shining down lights up the golden undertones in her wisps of hair, illuminates the freckles on her nose and cheeks, puts literal light in the reflections in her eyes. He made her look beautiful. He made her glow. She’s haunting against the bleak backdrop— like she’s entirely separate from it, the magnet of brightness and life in a place that otherwise feels dead.

_Fate._ Downtown Chandrila. It’s a much wider, busier shot than the last one. Rey is sitting alone on the wall where they both sat that day, looking out over the square with a thoughtful expression. He took it from a low angle amidst the crowd below, shooting through the bodies up at her on her perch. She’s the only thing in focus, the bodies in the foreground nothing more than dark blurs in the way of getting to her. The point-of-view is what makes it so personal— it’s like the camera is lost in a massive crowd, but all it can see is Rey. She is the only thing in the photo that has a face, the only thing that has any meaning. She’s literally lifted up and removed from the rest of the world. She’s larger than life to the camera and entirely unaware of it.

_Hope._ His grandparents’ house. It’s the simplest one, but the one that hits the hardest. It’s a close-up— just Rey’s head and shoulders. She’s sitting on the deck of the lake house, wearing his sweater, wrapped in his blanket, drinking the coffee he made for her from his cup. She’s looking over her shoulder and smiling at him mid-laugh, her eye line hitting just a bit above the lens— at his face, she knows. She looks happy. Really, truly happy. The early morning light gives everything an angelic, soft-lit feel. If Rey wasn’t herself, she could see why someone looking at this could think ‘hope.’ If someone smiled at her like that, she’d have hope, too. She’s smiling at him like he hung the fucking moon. He probably could’ve convinced her in that moment that he did.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. The entire class will see you._

Not everyone turns around at once like she would’ve expected them to. The couple of people that do turn around have only expressions of quiet shock and apprehension on their faces. Nothing rude— in fact, no one makes any rude comments at all. Not even Cal. 

No one laughs, whispers, nothing. 

There just continues a serious silence that no one is willing to be the person to break. Everyone seems to share some unspoken understanding that they’re witnessing something larger and more important than they have any right to tread on. 

Anyone who saw these would feel like they were intruding, probably. No one could’ve been expecting to see something this loud and personal from the class’s quietest, gloomiest member. No one could’ve expected such a simple but uncomfortably powerful confession in a school assignment. 

Ben just… let everyone see. Without words or explanation, he has shared the most intimate, colorful corner of himself. And it’s filled with Rey.

And no one knows what to do with it.

Rey doesn’t know what to do, either _._ She doesn’t even know what to feel.

“How, uh… _real_ these feel. Don’t you just— isn’t that right, class?” Mr. Q stammers.

A few people nod, but the overly-careful silence persists. Rey wants to crawl under the table.

“Very poignant,” he continues. “But Rey, I love this long exposure you did. Wow. We haven’t even covered those in class yet!”

A few people take the excuse to subtly look over their shoulders at her with big, curious eyes and she feels her face go bright red. She can’t stay here. She can’t.

“How early did you wake up for this?”

Even more people turn around now that they’re expecting some kind of response. She can’t. She can’t. She fucking can’t.

“I have to go to the nurse,” she blurts, gathering her books and backpack in one sweeping motion before bolting from the classroom.

Rey does goes to the nurse— after spending ten minutes in a bathroom stall in confused panic first. Luckily it’s easy to convince Ms. Abby that she has terrible cramps and has to go home. Luckily again, Maz doesn’t ask too many questions when she gets the call to come pick her up.

Rey has never had cramps bad enough for something like this, so Maz likely knows something else is up. Even so, she doesn’t press the issue. The only thing she says of it when they get home is— _‘I’ll always help you if you want it, you stubborn girl. Just ask.’_ Then she gives Rey a kiss on the cheek and lets her go run to be alone the way she desperately craves.

Rey immediately throws herself under the covers of her bed and sits there where it’s dark and soft and quiet and she can think.

Ben’s photos were beautiful. They made _her_ look beautiful. Is she supposed to believe that’s how he sees her? Is she supposed to believe he really sees her as hope itself? As the only thing he sees in a crowd? 

This isn’t fair. Rey doesn’t know what to believe and therefore what to allow herself to want. It’s dangerous and terrifying and maddening.

The truth is that it gave her butterflies to see herself through his eyes like that, even underneath the immediate panic of being singled out in class. People don’t create that kind of incredible portraiture of people they’re indifferent to. They just don’t. She’s sure of that, at least.

Still, it makes no sense. Why didn’t he show up? Why hasn’t he contacted her? Why does he keep making these grand gestures just to run away? What does he want from her? Two days ago she thought she knew.

Rey lays on her side, exhausted in every way possible, and pulls out her phone. Fuck it.

Rey Niima

1:11 PM

Hey. I’m still upset, but I need to know what’s going on. Are you okay? Please let me know.

Rey Niima

1:32 PM

This hurts, Ben, and I don’t understand it. And I don’t even know if you care about that. That’s how fucking confused I am and I would like it to stop please

Rey Niima

1:34 PM

I saw your photos in class. They were beautiful but

Rey Niima

1:35 PM

A lot of what you say and do doesn’t match. I never see the full picture with you, I always have to guess. I’m starting to guess things that really suck, Ben

Rey Niima

1:37 PM

Please?

Rey Niima

2:23 PM

Guess I’m guessing right. Thanks

Eyes tired from fixating on the screen, Rey closes them and tries to think of something other than Ben. Anything. She thinks of Jakku, oddly. She remembers her favorite people there that she’ll probably never see again. She falls asleep, dreaming of cars and palm reading and being unafraid. Fearless— that was the way she used to have to be to survive. She’s not sure when she started caring about all these little things the way she does now. Maybe being safe just means unlocking a whole new layer of things to be scared of. Maybe it has nothing to do with being safe but just getting older. Maybe it’s as simple as the more you have, the more you have to lose. 

She wakes up an hour later to the sound of people in the house, accompanied by loud video game noises. She goes out to get some water.

“Rey,” Finn winces apologetically from the couch when he sees her. “Shit, sorry. I forgot Maz said you were sick— did we wake you up?”

Poe, sitting next to him, gives a hesitant little wave with his X-Box controller. “Hey. Sorry you don’t feel good.”

“Thanks,” she smiles at him to show him they’re okay. “And no, you didn’t wake me up. It’s all good.”

No need to make them feel bad. She shouldn’t sleep her sadness away, anyway.

“You need anything?” Finn asks.

“No, I’m good. Keep playing.”

“Alright, boss,” he shrugs, and unpauses their game.

Rey stands in the kitchen and watches them play for way too long, slow-sipping her water for no real reason. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to be alone. She doesn’t want to hang out with them by any means, but... maybe she just doesn’t want to be completely alone, either.

A knock comes at the door and Poe, closest to the front of the house, jumps to get it.

“Oh. Hi,” Rey hears him say hesitantly to whoever it is. 

She freezes, waits for a voice. It says something back, but she can’t distinguish anything about it other than the fact that it’s not Ben. It frustrates her how disappointed she is.

“I don’t know… she’s not feeling well right now.”

Rey frowns and walks around the corner to hear better.

“Woah, dude. Fine, geez. Just wait, I’ll get her.”

Rey walks up on cue. “What’s up?” He jerks his chin outside and Rey goes around him so she can see whoever it is.

She laughs in surprise. “Armie?”

Armie is standing on the step, posture rigid as ever. His usually unfazed expression is tinted with annoyance and discomfort. He still has his backpack— he probably came straight from school. Weird. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she says. “…Good to see you.” That’s polite, right? “Uh, you wanna come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” he glares at Poe. Poe just shrugs and returns to the couch.

Rey tries to think of what you’re supposed do when you have guests that aren’t already your best friends.

“Do you… want some water or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” he sniffs. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” she smiles, swinging her arms for lack of a better gesture to busy herself with. “So… what’s up, man?”

“I need to talk to you.” His eyes flick to the boys on the couch. “Alone.”

“Wow,” she jokes awkwardly. “So serious.”

His expression doesn’t change except for lifting one eyebrow. The nature of her nervousness shifts from curious to worried.

“I mean— yeah, sure. My room is this way.”

She guides him back, thinking the whole time how fucking weird this is. Armie Hux seriously just showed up at her house out of the blue and now he’s coming into her room to ‘talk to her’ about something. People don’t just do that anymore, do they?

“I was supposed to find you at school, but by the time I figured out your schedule you’d apparently gone home early,” he says as Rey closes the door behind them. “So.”

“Wait, what?”

“Trust me— I’d really rather I didn’t need to come here, but I made a promise.” He grimaces slightly. “So here I am.” 

“Armie, what are you talking about?”

He blinks at her, avoidant. “Can I sit down?”

She nods, gesturing to her desk chair, the only real chair in the room. He pulls it out and sits, then stares at her until she realizes he expects her to sit, too. She perches herself obediently on the edge of her bed and waits.

Armie pulls an envelope out of a side pocket of his backpack and holds it out to her.

“I’m supposed to give this to you.”

Rey frowns and inspects it. It has one word on the outside— ‘Rey.’ It’s only three letters, but she’d recognize the handwriting anywhere. Her pulse skips.

“Ben,” she says in a very small voice.

“Yeah.”

Her thoughts start firing a million miles a minute. One hits particularly hard, and it feels like her heart stops. She looks up at Hux, and he must see it in her face.

“He’s fine,” he scowls. "Just read it.”

“What, now?” With him here, waiting for her?

Again, he seems to read her mind. “Yes. Just read it. You’ll see.”

This is so fucking bizarre and scary and awkward all at once, but Rey opens it as she’s told. It doesn’t give her the chance to overthink too much, at least.

It’s a handwritten letter, maybe around eight full pages long. Rey glances at Armie again, part of her wishing she could put this off somehow. What this thing says feels like it's going to be important, good or bad, and that is terrifying enough for her to hesitate to read it at all. He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on.”

She takes a deep breath and does.

> Rey,
> 
> First off, I’m sorry about the letter. I know it’s dramatic and tacky, but I don’t have my phone and the only other option was the school website’s shitty messaging system that only allows 500 characters at a time. So I hope you can just go along with this, because there are things I need to say that I don’t feel like can wait any longer. 
> 
> I’m sorry for what happened Saturday night. To say I’m embarrassed is a fucking understatement. It was unfair to do that to you, to expect from you what I did. I still don’t understand how you managed to stay so nice to me the whole time. I certainly didn’t deserve it. You’re always giving me more patience and understanding that I deserve, Rey. Even without knowing why I needed it in the first place. So I want to tell you.
> 
> I don’t expect your forgiveness or sympathy or even understanding. That’s not what this is about. I just want to explain. I just want you to know. I hope that’s okay.
> 
> From fourth to early ninth grade, I went to my uncle’s small liberal boarding school upstate. My parents sent me because I was starting to be ‘emotionally reactive’ to a lot of people and things in Chandrila, including them. They thought it might be good for me to be with Luke part of the year because I looked up to him so much. And it was, at first.
> 
> But there were a lot of subtleties at play at the time— Luke was sort of acting like my uncle, but not really. Most the kids resented me for being related to him in the first place, so I had very few friends. I was starting to suspect my parents were sending me there just to be rid of me. And I was a kid, so of course all of this felt so much bigger than it actually was. 
> 
> There was a teacher at the school who became a sort of mentor of mine. He took interest in my coursework, my ideas, my life. He felt like the only person who actually cared about me. It was manipulation, of course, but I guess I was an easy target. To put it plainly, he molested me. Off and on for almost four years. 
> 
> I tried to tell my parents after a while as it got worse, but I was already known for being needlessly emotional and exaggerative. It just sort of rolled off them. It was so horrible that I didn’t even try to say anything for another year or so. It didn’t stick the second time, either, but I didn’t have it in me to fight them to be believed. Eventually I aged out of his classes and it stopped. I never brought it up again to anyone. My mental state was in pieces and on fire, but I figured at least it had stopped.
> 
> I was a couple months into a severely troubled freshman year when he got caught doing the same thing to another kid. All of a sudden, other stuff started coming out about him— other kids, loads of evidence, undeniable proof. It was major news. He was locked up. My parents halfway remembered what I said those years ago and put it together. My mom went into a self-blaming downward spiral, but my dad’s immediate reaction was to be angry. 
> 
> They permanently withdrew me from the school and called me home. I remember we were still standing in the driveway on the day I got back when my dad said something to the effect of ‘What’s wrong with you, why didn’t you just tell us?’ That’s when I snapped— that’s when I blacked out and did what I did.
> 
> Since then, they’ve never been the same around me. They’ve tried, but there’s been too much unsaid resentment and guilt flowing between us. I didn’t think it was possible for me to ever think of them as parents again, or even want them to be. That’s just been my basic truth for most my life. Things just don’t ever move or change or grow in my world. Not until you, at least.
> 
> Even if you never want to see me again, Rey, I still want you to know this. You have made me want to change. You’ve proven that it’s even possible in the first place. In a million little ways, you’re behind all the good in my life. And that’s the mild version of my feelings on that.
> 
> I’m going on a work trip with my dad. I’ll be gone for about a week. And this feels so strange to say because I have no fucking clue why you did it but— thank you for talking to my dad. I don’t know what the hell you said, but it did something. It did this. So thank you. 
> 
> Thank you for everything. I know you could probably beat me in any fight or debate and drink me under a table and all that, but you will always be my sunshine. Even when I pretended I wanted no part of it, it was all I wanted. Always. I always wanted you, Rey. There wasn’t a second in time that I didn’t. That is the truth. Sometimes I think I wanted you before I even knew you existed, if that makes any sense. I know you’re far too good for me, (and I think my dad does, too, from the way he talks about you,) but I would do anything to be someone you still want to know.
> 
> I’m sorry for all the bullshit I put you through— for tossing you around because of my own issues, for making you think I ever hated you. I don’t want any more confusion. I don’t want you to be even a little unsure. Because I’m not. You told me once that I wasn’t alone and I believed you. Now I want you to believe me—I won’t ever let you feel alone again if you don’t want to be. I will try every day to be the person you think I am because I want to be that person. I want to be your person.
> 
> I want to be able to take your picture every day. I want to make you laugh so hard that you stop making noise like you do. I want argue about The Buzzcocks and The Damned and artistic integrity. I want to fall asleep with your hands in my hair. I want watch Deadpool 2 with you and hear why it’s brilliant. I want to hold your hand everywhere and kiss you all the time. I want to be the person you call when something goes right or something goes wrong. I want to know every good and bad thing you carry with you. I want to help you feel strong enough to face the things that scare you, the way you have for me. I know it sounds melodramatic, but I truly never want to be away from you ever again. If you let me. 
> 
> We once made fun of the idea of fate together at the top of a ferris wheel, but maybe I was wrong to dismiss it so quick.
> 
> I love you, and I think I knew that I would the first time I saw you, standing there alone at that game booth. It’s why I went after you. Something tugged me in your direction when you ran away, and I followed at full speed. I didn’t even think twice. I’m so fucking glad I didn’t.
> 
> I don’t expect anything from you, Rey. You’ve done so much for me as it is. I almost feel selfish for asking for more, but I have to. I have to try. 
> 
> I hope the dance was fun. I hope Poe is okay— I’ll apologize to him eventually. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.
> 
> I’ll see you soon.
> 
> Ben
> 
> P.S. I know it probably seems super fucking weird that Hux gave this to you— but we go further back than I’ve let on. He’s okay.

When Rey finishes, she stares at the page for a little while longer so she doesn’t have to look up yet. Silent tears started streaming down her face halfway through the thing and haven’t stopped since.

Armie shoves a box of tissues he took from her desk under her nose. Slowly, she accepts it. She expects him to make a snide remark when she faces him again, but he doesn’t.

“He told you about Snoke?”

“…What?”

Armie frowns. “He told me he was going to tell you.”

The name rings a bell— Ben’s dad had used it. He said he ‘would’ve killed the bastard if he knew.’ Her heart sinks, because she understands now.

“Is that the teacher? From the boarding school?”

Armie nods. “Yeah. That was his name.”

“Was?”

“Some inmates killed him. Only a year into his life sentence.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

Rey turns and really looks at him, sensing something more. He sighs, feeling her gaze.

“That’s how I originally know Ben. I went to the school. Same thing that happened to him happened to me.”

Rey’s heart breaks all over again with an added twinge of guilt. She can’t believe she thought she knew his whole story just because she overheard one conversation a few months ago. She desperately wants to hug him, but knows that probably wouldn’t go well. She settles for, “I’m sorry, Armie. That’s horrible.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s kind of why we can’t stand each other. We’re too similar. Constant reminders, you know. Also, I just don’t really like him that much to begin with. But because of… well, just with everything…” He scratches his forehead. “Rey, some things trump friendship or petty rivalries. Even bad things.”

“Okay…?”

“When stuff is really important, we sort of… trust each other with it. We’re not friends, and probably never will be, but— but—” He struggles. “I don’t know. We’re not close or anything. He hates me and I hate him.”

Her brow pulls in. “But…?”

“I don’t know, it’s like I said. It doesn’t matter that I’m not his friend. We went through the same thing. We have an understanding. We would never hang out or anything, but if… if something’s important…”

Rey asks the question that’ll hopefully draw the real answer and help both of them. “Armie, why did you come here today?”

He sighs. “Because it was important to him and he asked me to.”

Rey nods, trying not to look as taken aback as she is. So they’re basically trauma-bound blood brothers— ones who actively dislike each other but still keep some kind of unspoken loyalty. It feels so random and improbable, but the more she considers it the more she believes it. It's simultaneously heartwarming and devastating.

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business and usually I don’t give a crap about this stuff, but whatever happened— you should forgive him. He’s a mess, but I’ve never seen him try so hard before and I know it’s because of you.”

“You said we were disgusting,” Rey reminds him with a scoff.

“Yeah, but I caught you humping in my friend’s pool shed, so I think you deserved that.”

“You said we should be illegal.”

“Okay fine, yes, I was disgusted by the idea at the time. But I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

He gestures vaguely in frustration. “Oh, you know.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Why do you think I didn’t blab to everyone about your gross hormonal fuckery like I was originally going to?”

“We made a deal, that’s why.”

Armie snorts. “The deal where you would voluntarily fill me in on all the events leading up to that night and then I ‘wouldn’t tell anyone,’ despite walking away with the better, expanded story? That one?”

Rey gasps. “You were planning to _cross_ us?” The little shit. 

Hux shrugs coolly. “Sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know.”

“What the fuck does that _mean?”_ she squeals, then pauses abruptly. “Wait. Then what the hell did Ben tell you when you went outside?”

Armie smiles a little like she’s finally asked the right question and settles back in his chair.

“He told me you guys weren’t just hooking up like I had assumed. That he’d had feelings for you since before school started, since before I or anyone else even met you that day in group. He said he was trying and failing to make something of it but that he needed time to figure things out so it could happen. I’d never seen him so freaked out or determined and I realized he was being dead serious, that you were really that important to him. And if it was important to him… you know. So I dropped it. Never told anyone.”

Rey steadies herself with a hand on the mattress beneath her. Holy shit. That’s what he told him that night? That’s how Ben knew beyond doubt that Armie wouldn’t say anything? 

“I thought he just threatened you,” she laughs weakly.

“Well, yeah— he did that, too.”

She laughs again, new tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Armie.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, standing. “Seriously, don’t. Please.”

“Understood,” Rey nods. “Can I… hug you, though? Just once? Real quick?”

Armie sighs, pauses dramatically. “Once.”

“Thank you.” She hugs him briefly, being careful not to get any wet mascara on his white t-shirt, then walks him back out to the living room.

“I hope you take what I said into consideration,” he says quietly on the doorstep, face solemn.

“I will.”

Satisfied, he nods and is gone.

Back in her room, the first thing Rey does is scavenge Ben’s sweater from the depths of her closet and pull it on. She sinks slowly to the rough carpeted floor, overwhelmed by the relief of the feel of it on her skin.

Rey lays on the ground and does the only thing left to do, the only thing she can— she lets all of it flow through her. There’s been so much she’s been holding back, she realizes. For the first time since meeting him that summer night, Rey stops being afraid, lets go, and lets herself feel it all.

One numb but glowing thought remains at the end of the barrage of pain, pride, devastation, hope, and relief. Staring at the ceiling, she tastes the idea.

_ Ben wants her. He loves her. He’s coming back. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibes: "In the Dark" by Cathedrals, "Love Somebody" by Ta-ku and Wafia [x](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	10. and then i found you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > I was just an only child of the universe  
> And then I found you
>> 
>> You are the sun and I am just the planets  
> Spinning around you
>> 
>> I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you  
> But not as much as I do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were written as one continuous chapter, but I wrote too much again so here we are. I greatly apologize for the delay on this. I'm posting it all at once so here it is— the end. Thank you for coming along. xx

“Don’t tell your mother about the flat tire. She asked me five times if I brought the spare and I told her I did. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ben eyes the house anxiously as they pull up, the truck’s headlights sweeping across the lawn. “I won’t.”

“Or the bar.”

“I won’t.”

“Or the Lando thing.”

“Dad.”

“Fine, yeah,” he shrugs defensively. “I get it, you get it. We got it.”

The porch light illuminates Leia standing on the front step, hands clasped in front of her in anticipation. Her hair is in its usual complicated swoop-y updo, her expression in its standard pleasant-neutral smile. But, as always, all her many unsaid judgments simmer just beneath the surface.

Han turns the engine off and sighs. “Ready, kid?”

Ben looks to him, nods once, and they get out together. Han jogs around the hood and catches up to Ben so he can go first, giving Leia a one-armed hug and a kiss on the forehead before disappearing inside.

Ben’s left alone with her.

“Hi, Mom.”

She looks at him carefully, almost sadly. Like she’s absorbing details, assessing wounds, mourning his loss while he’s still standing perfectly alive and in front of her.

“Oh, Ben.” She hugs him gently— his ribs are badly bruised and she knows it— but her words are not as gentle. “How did this happen? Why would you do this? Did you see a doctor?”

He sighs, standing straight again. “Yeah, Dad took me to—”

“I shouldn’t have let you go. I should have taken you to see Dr. Barnes right away. He would’ve fixed you up properly. Your nose is going to heal crooked now, I can tell. I can still get him on the phone and you can see him tonight, he would be happy to—”

“ _Mom._ I’m fine. My nose is fine. Everything’s fine. Did you get a copy of my car keys like I asked?”

Her hands go to her hips. “You missed two groups and your individual with Amilyn, too, young man. How about you slow down and tell me what you plan to do about that.”

“I can’t do this right now, Mom, I have to go.”

“Not before you explain to me what you plan to do. This is important. Here— I’ll just call and ask Ami if she’ll see you twice next week.”

It’s always annoyed him, the way she’s all but nonexistent in his life while she’s away and then acts like _this_ in person. But he realizes now it’s probably just her way of dealing with the separation. The urge to fuss probably… bottles up. He never really used to consider things like that, but spending time with his dad has made him start. Empathy is a difficult muscle to stretch.

Still. “No.”

She’s surprised by this, freezing for a moment. Then she crosses her arms. God, she’s scary for someone a full foot shorter than him. 

“What do you mean, ‘no?’ We have a _deal,_ Benjamin,” she reminds him.

“I know. I’ll still go to group, but… but no more Holdo, okay? Not for individuals. I need to find someone else on the insurance. You— you know why.” 

Her arms stay crossed. He can see in her eyes the deep, desperate worry fueling the sternness. Having Holdo as Ben’s therapist no doubt feels safer to her. He doesn’t blame his mother for wanting to keep tabs on him, or for wanting her best friend to be the one keeping them. But it’s not right. He’s known that for a while. It always bothered him, but it wasn’t until recently when he heard Rey reflect his own rage about it back to him did he actually allow himself to act on it. 

Leia’s frown is not rooted in anger, but fear. She’s only worried about what will happen if she loosens the last real grip she has on him.

“I’m okay,” he tells her, more softly. “Trust me. I’m okay.” He watches as her frown turns sadder. _Oh no. Oh god. Please don’t cry._ “Mom— I’m alright.”

“He’s good!” Han yells from somewhere inside the house, backing him up. “He’s fine!”

It intercepts her sad, serious moment with a little laugh. She smooths a piece of her hair back, collecting herself.

“Yes, I see that!” she calls back, then sighs to Ben. “Fine.”

“…Fine?” 

Leia smiles in confirmation. “Fine. I understand. But I want you to tell me whoever it is you find.”

Ben swoops down to kiss her forehead. “Thanks, Mom.” He has to go. He starts shuffling around her to get into the house. “Okay, I’m gonna take a shower and then— wait, you got the copy of my keys, yeah?”

Quiet.

He turns around in the threshold. “Mom?”

She looks at him over her shoulder with a carefully neutral, not-guilty expression. Her politics face. She shrugs. “I did what you asked, but I appear to have indicated the wrong key for them to make. We do, at least, have two keys to the shed now.”

Ben groans. _“Mom!”_

“What, like you’ve never made a mistake in your life, Benjamin? Where do you need to go? One of us will take you.”

Ben drops his face into his hands. “My phone is in my car.”

“Let’s calm it down with the dramatics— you can use my phone for now and we’ll call Triple-A tomorrow.”

Ben wants to throw something. “I’m kind of in a hurry, Mom, and you don’t have _the numbers I need.”_

“Jesus, who do you need to get a hold of that badly?” she waves. “We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s a girl, Leia,” Han’s voice shouts again from inside. _Traitor,_ Ben thinks. “And I’ll take you, Ben. We’ll leave the truck here and take the Falcon, it’ll be fine.”

“A _girl?”_ his mom gasps, like this changes everything.

Ben ignores her, keeping his eyes to the ground. This is too much. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe this is the universe telling him to just leave Rey the hell alone. Maybe she deserves the peace. He picks himself up and trudges inside.

“Wait!” Leia calls after him. Her entire demeanor has suddenly shifted into something comically brighter. “Ben, what girl? Who is she? What’s her name?”

It might be sweet in a different context, but right now her fawning makes Ben want to collapse to the ground and never get up again, so he continues ignoring her. There’s a decent chance she’ll never get to meet her, anyway. There’s no point in entertaining Leia’s excitement.

“Did you hear me?” Han asks as Ben passes him on the way to the stairs. “I’ll take you wherever, it’s fine. It’s not that late.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Ben mumbles. “Maybe.”

“Woah, hold on.” Ben reluctantly stops halfway up the flight. “‘Maybe?’ I thought you were going to talk to her. You said you would. You might not have your phone, but I can still take you to her house.”

Ben closes his eyes. He showed up unannounced at her house once before, and that went terribly. The thought of attempting it again makes him feel sick. What if her brother is there? Her friends? 

“I don’t know,” Ben dismisses, then charges the rest of the way up to the second floor before his dad can protest. Neither of his parents are ever going to let this go now. He can feel it.

He turns on the shower and gets straight into it. The water is so cold at first that it stings his skin. The sensation jolts him awake and out of the haze that driving for days put him in. It’s time to face the music.

Six days. It’s been six days since he left for Kijimi with his dad. Six days since he’s seen her.

He meant what he said in the letter he left— he doesn’t expect forgiveness or sympathy or understanding from Rey. He doesn’t. He’s had the past six days to think about all the ways in which she could possibly respond to the things he said, and most of those ways aren’t good.

She could remain angry. Maybe get angrier. She could pity him. She could be plain uncomfortable— maybe too uncomfortable with what she read to ever be able to look at him the same. She could forgive him but simply be too weary of him to keep going on like this. He wouldn’t be surprised if that ends up being the truth— she’s too good of a person to make him feel _bad_ for saying everything he did… but she’s also too smart not to realize she’s better off without all the ugliness he comes with.

He turns the knobs on the shower to go as hot as they can. It scalds him, but it feels comforting in its familiarity. He’s done this _so_ many times before to try and soothe the sparks of instability threatening to blow inside him— to freeze it out, to burn it out, to use the pain to summon clarity. He did it obsessively earlier in the year while he was still blocking out Rey. It never quite worked the way he wanted it to. It was faulty logic from the start.

His whole life, Ben has craved extremes to kill or replace other extremes— nothing else would even register in his mind. Nothing else could touch him, nothing else could change him. Only extremes. Hot or cold. Black or white. Everything or nothing. 

If Ben couldn’t be sure she’d still want him, then he’d make sure she hated him. If nothing ever seemed to change, then he just wouldn’t try. If no one wanted to see him as good, then he’d lean into the bad. And if a chance at happiness was slim, scary, and fragile— then Ben would rather stay safe, sit back, and suffer every time.

And every time he gave up on something he wanted or killed his own hope before it could breathe, the spring in Ben’s chest only coiled tighter. Early in life, he learned to look around every corner for anything that would set him off, just so he could let go of all that unrelenting tension for one fleeting moment. That way he could breathe for that precious second in some blissfully blind rage, deflate, then have the room to start coiling up all over again.

Exploding outwards, never in. He learned how to live like that— in a constant, desperate, explosive cycle— but it never got easier. The pain of it never actually lessened. Over the years, he just learned how to shoulder it.

And all this time it had been entirely worth to him to do this— to sit back and suffer this way, day in and day out, if it meant he could keep the feeling of control. It was worth it if he could go on believing that he really had the power to parcel out his own pain and make it more bearable. It was worth it to keep some demented illusion of safety. Of sense.

But now that illusion has shattered permanently. 

Rey Niima came out of nowhere and turned the world to its full brightness without asking permission. The flood of light exposed every dumb thing he ever tried to convince himself of. It purged him of his despondency, his allegiance to pain, his resignation to loneliness. It washed away the long-held belief that he was fundamentally unknowable and unlovable. 

Ben Solo stared straight into the sun and it burned like hell, but he knows now he’ll never be able to live without its warmth or light again.

And the chance _is_ slim, scary, and fragile that Rey will want him after everything that’s happened— not just with the night of the dance, but their timeline as a whole. He’s been truly horrible to her for most of the time they’ve known each other, punctuated with only brief moments of good. He’s loved her desperately the whole time, but what does that matter to her if that’s the way she thinks his love looks?

_But it doesn’t,_ he thinks desperately, _it doesn’t look like that._ Rey believed he could be better, and she was right. He just has to show her. 

The chance is slim and fragile, but it’s still one Ben has to take. He refuses to crawl back to the false safety of cold shadows. He won’t let old hurts keep him from the most important thing that’s ever happened to him.

Ben’s hands shake as he exits the shower, towels his hair, gets dressed.

Han is waiting at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed. Stubborn. “We going?”

“Yes,” Ben says, then makes split-second decision. “But we go to Hux’s first.”

Maybe he’s a coward, but it’s compromise. The right thing would’ve been to go straight to Rey’s house, and the most comfortable would’ve been never to leave his own so… compromise. 

He’ll still go to Rey’s afterwards after this— he will. He just needs to get a primer from Hux first. Then he’ll feel more ready. Maybe. Hopefully.

Hux answers the door on Ben’s fourth round of knocks. Ben might’ve given up like a normal person on rounds two or three if not for his desperation and knowing exactly how deeply antisocial Hux is.

“Jesus, _what?”_ Hux complains when he finally opens the door. Ben blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the bright living room behind him. “Oh. You.”

“Yeah. Hey.”

Hux eyes Han waiting in the Falcon on the dim street behind Ben. “Back from your thing, then?”

“Yeah. Can I talk to you?”

“We’re talking right now,” Hux deadpans.

Ben can feel his dad watching them from the car, knowing how he already disapproves of this detour. Everyone here except for him clearly doesn’t want him here, and yet it’s his only reason not to be the place he’s trying to avoid.

Ben glances around the yard for something to do as he thinks of what to say.

“I, uh, would’ve texted. But I still don’t have my phone.”

“Yeah, alright,” Hux sneers. “Spit it out, Solo, what is it?”

Ben resists the urge to snap back a thousand times harder. He takes a breath. “Did you, uh… did you give Rey the letter?”

“Yeah. You asked me to, didn’t you? I gave it to her on Monday.” 

“Thank you. For doing that. I… I came to—”

Hux shakes his head suddenly and holds up a hand. “Wait, have you not _talked_ to her yet?”

Ben opens his mouth, trying and failing to think of an excuse that isn’t _‘I’m freaking out, alright, fucking give me a break.’_

“Oh my god. Why the fuck are you _here,_ then? Have you even _tried?”_ Hux demands.

Ben continues to struggle. “Well, I’m not— I don’t—”

_“Holy fucking—_ Go talk to her! This is ridiculous.”

“I will!” Ben protests. “I’m going to!”

“Great!” Hux grins sarcastically. Then he drops it. “See you!”

Ben catches the door before it slams shut, prying it back open with sheer force. It creaks. “Wait. Hux, please.”

Hux groans, giving up on the door. It’s not like he could win that tug-of-war. “I don’t know what you want from me, I did what you asked. I’m not your fucking couple’s counselor.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just need— I just have to—” Ben winces. He’s never going to live this down, but it’s simply more important than his pride. “… How did she react?”

Hux blinks at him. “Are you _serious_ right now? You’re asking me—? No. Fuck you. Go fucking _talk to her yourself._ Go.”

Ben keeps his grip on the door firm, not going anywhere. “Please. I won’t bother you anymore after this, I just need to know.”

“Wow. You’re a real coward, you know that?”

Ben shrugs. He saw that coming and probably deserves it.

Hux crosses his arms and considers him with his haughty, judgmental eyes. Then something in his expression changes.

“…You really want to know?”

Ben exhales. Swallows. “Yes.”

Hux drops his gaze to the ground and sighs dramatically, scuffing the doormat lazily with a foot. “I don’t know, man…”

“Hux,” Ben says evenly, despite wanting to rip his entire fucking head off right now. “Come on. Please.”

His eyes roll to the ceiling. “Fine. Ask me what you want to know.”

“Well, just— how did she respond? What did she say? And— and how does she seem now?”

Hux drops his airy, too-good-for-this, bored act for a moment to stare at Ben with deep incredulity and annoyance, like he can’t contain it. 

“What?” Ben frowns.

Hux shakes his head in disgust, glancing down. “Nothing.” He looks back up. “I’ll tell you. But are you _sure_ you want to know?”

_“Yes!”_

“Yeah, alright. Fine.” Hux nods thoughtfully to himself, then peers past Ben into the distance like he’s trying to recall. He takes his sweet time winding up. “Well, let’s see… I had to go to her house to find her… she let me in… she read it… she thanked me… and then she showed me out. Didn’t say anything.”

Ben blinks. “…Really?”

“Mm-hm. I guessed she seemed… stunned. Kind of sad…” He makes another stupid, exaggerated trying-to-remember face. “Maybe… disbelieving.”

Ben’s stomach sinks. “Disbelieving?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe it. She missed some school this week, too. Didn’t come to group at all.”

“What? Seriously? Why? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. If I had to guess, though…” Hux trails, looking at Ben with something like pity, then waves a hand and quickly looks away. “No. No, sorry. I shouldn’t go there. I won’t.”

Ben nearly grabs the asshole by his skinny shoulders to shake the fucking words out of him. “What? What would you guess?”

Hux starts to smirk, but stops himself. _Bastard._ “I mean, I don’t know. It _seemed_ like she appreciated the letter, but… but I don’t know that she really _believed_ whatever you said about her, you know?”

“What?” Ben breathes.

“Yeah,” Hux shrugs, like he can’t believe it, either. “She obviously really cared about you, but I mean— you haven’t exactly been around to back whatever you said up, have you? I’ve seen her in the halls and such. She’s seemed terribly upset, but at least with you gone it seems like she might be starting to accept things and move on. Or at least starting to try, even if it’s not what she wants. Really too bad. Poor thing.”

Ben’s hand slides off the door. _No._

“Hey, you wanted to hear it.” Hux watches Ben’s reaction closely. It’s sadistic, the amusement Ben sees hiding behind his eyes right now.

“I did,” Ben agrees numbly.

Hux sighs yet again, looking over his nail beds with fresh, theatrical disinterest. “I mean, _I_ know how you feel and _you_ know how you feel, but _she’s_ the only one who apparently doesn’t. Sad. Seems like she’s really been going through it. I don’t know how much time you have left before she, you know…” He rolls his wrist to give his hand a sad flourish. “Fully gives up hope on you.”

Ben’s stomach drops, along with practically every drop of anxiety in his body in a nanosecond. No more room for it. “…I have to go.”

Hux leans against the doorframe. “Oh no, do you?”

Ben only half-hears him, turning around. “Yeah. Sorry. Thank you.”

“Yeah, totally. Better hurry,” Hux calls.

Ben barrels back towards the car, tunnel-visioned.

“Fuck,” Hux mutters behind him. “Actually— Ben. Wait.”

Ben stops and turns. Hux is still standing in the doorway with arms crossed, looking annoyed with himself. 

“She’s probably not at home right now,” he volunteers, frowning into the distance.

“What? Why, where is she?”

“School— the winter fundraiser thing,” he says. “You know, the fair.”

_The fair._ Ben might laugh at the irony if not for the freight train’s worth of determination pounding through his veins right now. 

“You’re kidding.”

Hux grabs the door with a death glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking kidding to you?” It slams shut, leaving Ben alone to process what’s about to happen. What he needs to do.

He makes it the rest of the way to his dad’s passenger seat. Reeling, but focused.

“We’re going to school,” he informs Han upon greeting, slamming his door closed behind him.

“I thought—”

“That’s where she is.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” Han starts up the engine, then glances over nervously at a barely-present Ben. “Is everything—”

“I just need to get there as fast as possible.” Ben looks over— maybe Han will see the urgency in his eyes without him having to explain it.

“Well,” Han says after a short pause, putting the old car in gear. “I can do fast.”

There isn’t a huge line at the entry— the event is already in full swing inside the enclosed football field, surprisingly packed with people and music and lights and color.

One of the three tellers waves Ben forward to her fold-up table with a cash register. He recognizes her from his U.S. History class last year by her distinctive curly blonde hair. Her name tag reads “Ally— AV Club VP.”

“Hi, welcome,” Ally smiles, pushing up her glasses. “Which package would you like to purchase?”

Ben is so insanely keyed-up that it takes a second to process what she said. “Uh, sorry. Package?”

She points to a big handwritten poster behind her. It’s filled with instructions and lists and tallies that his brain can’t deal with right now. He just needs to get inside and find Rey.

“Yup. You buy the package with the amount of tickets you want to take inside.”

“No, I just need entry.” 

“All entries come with tickets,” she explains pleasantly. “How many would you like?”

Ben stares at her, starting to feel twitchy. “I don’t…”

“Well, see— you can buy in increments of twenty. The more you buy, though, the more you save,” she smiles, like this is the best thing she could possibly be doing right now. Like she’s having the time of her damn life. “For example, the difference between one-hundred tickets and eighty is half the difference between twenty and forty. It’s actually quite smart, and there aren’t any limitations on how much you can buy at a time like there were last year. And if you bundle with family members, you can get—”

Ben yanks out his wallet and slams down a fifty dollar bill with a thud— the only cash that was inside.

“Here,” he interrupts. “Here. Whatever I can get for that.”

Ally claps. “Perfect! You get a hundred tickets for that.”

“Great. Thanks.” Ben starts towards the entrance.

“Wait! I haven’t given you your wristband.” 

Ben takes a deep breath and backs up. “Right. Wristband.”

“Now, with this donation you get to choose five clubs to divvy up the profit. Which would you like to support?”

_What the fuck._ “I don’t care. You can choose.”

“Oh, we’re not allowed to do that. The list is right up there.”

She points to the poster again. There must be forty club names scrawled in tiny lettering in the top right corner.

“Listen,” Ben levels, keeping his voice calm. “I don’t know anything about clubs— I just really need to get inside.”

Ally laughs like he’s being silly. “That’s alright. You’re not the only one. Here— here’s a brochure that explains each organization, big and small, and what they do.”

She puts it right into his hand with an extra smile. A peel of laughter from inside the arched gates draws his attention briefly. Rey is somewhere in there. Right now.

He glances back at the brochure once, then throws it down on the table in barely-tempered frustration. “Fine. AV club. Give it all to the AV club.”

Her eyes go round. “Wow. That’s… are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re allowed to choose five clubs for fifty dollars.”

“No thanks, just give it all to the AV club.”

“I really think you should reconsider.”

“I really don’t want to, Ally.”

She stares at him. He stares right back.

“Okay,” she smiles finally. 

Ben’s fingers itch as she watches her print a barcode sticker from a small machine, then stick it onto the square plastic part of a green polyester wristband.

Afterwards, though, she pauses and sets it down. “You know, are you sure I can’t convince—?”

Ben practically jumps out of his skin, bringing his hands down on the plastic table. _“WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET INSIDE?”_

The other tellers go silent at their stations, turning to look over at him. Fuck.

He forces himself to laugh at himself. Awkwardly. “…Sorry!” He glances around, trying to look nonthreatening— something probably difficult considering the state of his face. “On edge, I guess.”

Ally, who froze at first, just smiles anew at Ben’s apology and happily finishes up his wristband by activating it with a scanner. Entirely unbothered. God, she must be insane. 

“That’s alright,” she assures him. She gestures for his wrist, then slips it on and fastens the band. “The barcode there holds your tickets. Have fun!”

“Thanks,” he sighs in relief, then promptly gets the hell away from there before she can ask him to do anything else or someone calls security. He reaches the little ballooned archway and dips through it, finally entering the ‘fairgrounds’ on the other side.

It’s nothing like a real fair, or at least nothing like the city-sponsored one in the summer. There are shared elements, though— music, lights, games, raffles, a picnic-style seating area. No rides, but there are a few food trucks at the far end. The whole things only fills the space of the football field, so it’s much more intimate.

Most everywhere Ben looks, he sees people from his classes. It’s loud and cramped, with everyone having to talk over the many noises. It feels like a bad dream— everyone he lays eyes on _knows_ him, he’s completely alone, and he can’t see ten feet in front of him due to the thickness of the stupid teenage crowd.

He chooses a row and starts down it. He’ll comb through the whole place if he has to, but he has to start somewhere.

The layout is simple— it’s essentially a few long rows of tents and booths, creating channels for the crowd to funnel through. The channels, however, are small and frustratingly difficult to move through quickly. Ben bumps into people with every step. 

The athletic department monopolizes most of the real estate in the first row. Predictably, cramming all the sports teams together like that makes the area extra chaotic. 

Ben practices as much patience as he can, using the slow-moving nature of the crowd as an opportunity to orient himself and take stock of everything around him. It’s hard— there’s so much going on everywhere he turns. At one point he finds himself instinctively blocking a soccer ball from hitting a kid in the face, probably saving his glasses in the process. So many other things are happening that the kid doesn’t even notice. 

“Sorry,” a girl in a jersey shouts and giggles, hopping over her booth to retrieve the ball. Ben tosses it back, eyes scanning the booths behind her. Nothing. Just more soccer players and some parents.

This feels impossible already.

Ben takes a deep breath and forges ahead. He pushes past the wrestling booth selling protein shakes, past the swimmers and their dunk tank, past the film club and their trivia raffle. When he finally gets through the athletics, the crowd thins out a bit and it feels a bit easier to breathe. His relief is short-lived, though.

A female voice from somewhere up ahead catches his ear. “Hey— hey, that’s Ben.”

Ben gets a bad feeling. But maybe they’re not talking about him— maybe he can just keep walking in peace. He keeps on his course.

“Oh my god,” another female voice says. “No way.”

“Should we call him over?”

_No. Nope. No, you should not._ He picks up his pace.

“What are you guys—? Oh shit!” A burst of excited laughter. “Hey! _HEY!_ Ben!”

Ben knows _that_ voice. He turns to see none other than Cal Kestis waving wildly from the photography club booth with a painfully wide smile on his face. Why the fuck is he smiling like that? Wait, why the others in the tent doing it, too? He never joined the club despite Mr. Q’s persistent campaigning for it, and yet they’re all smiling like they know him.

“Ben! Come over here!” Cal waves enthusiastically.

Towards the back of the tent he spots Paige Tico, who turns around curiously from her station with a DLSR around her neck. She’s sitting on a tall stool in the makeshift photo studio set-up with people lined up behind her to get their pictures taken with friends.

She, too, smiles at him briefly before going back to work, but it’s contained. Like a normal person’s.

Ben bites the bullet and goes over. They know Rey— maybe they’ve seen her or know where she is.

“Ben! Where’ve you _been,_ my guy?” Cal grins, slapping the table like they’re best friends. Then he gestures to Ben’s face. “And yikes! I’d hate to see the other guy!” He laughs all by himself. 

Ben could _easily_ shut him up right now and scare the shit out of him with one look, but he doesn’t. It would be so satisfying… but he doesn’t.

Instead he smiles as best he can. “Yeah. Went on a trip. But hey, have you guys—”

“Those _photos,”_ Cal says lower, leaning over the table. “For the word project? Holy shit, man.”

Ben’s smile drops and he feels his face gets warm. Oh, yeah— that. Forgot about that.

“They were _beautiful,”_ the redheaded girl next to him stresses with huge, shining eyes. Ben recognizes her— she’s in their class, but he’s never spoken to her before. “Like, _so_ beautiful. I can’t even _imagine—”_

“Rey Niima, huh?” Cal interrupts. He isn’t taunting— he’s genuinely, innocently excited about this, but that doesn’t stop Ben from wanting to punch him in the face. The guy is annoying, yes, but honestly Ben just doesn’t like Rey’s name in his mouth like that. Feels wrong. Sacrilegious. 

“Have you seen her?” Ben asks calmly. He deserves an Oscar.

“What— like, here?”

“Yes, here.”

“Oh my god. Are you, like, _searching_ for her right now? Like, in the crowd?” a girl with short, blunt hair asks hopefully from beside Cal. Ben can’t recall whether this one is in their class. He normally ignores everyone in there to the best of his ability, so why are there four randoms behind the table listening in on this like they’re up-to-date and fully invested?

He braces himself. “Yes. Have any of you—”

“Yes? Oh my god,” the redhead swoons to the bob.

Cal shakes his head slowly with a grin. “I don’t think any of us knew you had that in you. It’s amazing, man.”

“Yes, great, thanks— _does anyone know where she is?”_ Ben implores one last time before ditching them.

None of them answer.

Ben nods with forced pleasantry. Fuck this. “Okay— well, thanks, but I’ve got to go.”

“Good luck!” the redhead shouts as he goes.

He cuts into the stream of traffic before anyone else has time to fucking embarrass him. He’s actually relieved to be bumping along with everyone else in the crowd for once. Someone’s goddamn balloon keeps hitting him in the face but other than that, he’s happy with the peace of it. It’s better than the entire photo club pressing him about his personal life, at least.

Thirty seconds later, Paige Tico appears at his side out of nowhere.

“Ben. Can I talk to you for a second?”

Ben startles and looks down. She’s there, wearing her club t-shirt and red flannel sans camera, calmly waiting for a response.

He stares at her with alarm at first, taking a moment to simply catch up to her presence. Then he glances back at the photo tent— someone else must’ve taken over her post for her. She must’ve run after him all this way. 

He hesitates. “Actually, I’m—”

“It’s important.” Her tone leaves no room for debate.

Ben caves under the pressure of her cool, dark eyes. “Uh, yeah. Fine.”

She pulls him to the side into a wide gap between two tents. Tucking her loose hair behind her ears, she sighs with a look on her face that makes Ben nervous. She’s always been pretty in an untouchable sort of way, but right her focus is terrifying.

“Listen, I’m not going to waste either of our time here. Okay?”

He nods, keeping his mouth shut.

“Good— Rey is kind of like my little sister. She’s been best friends with Rose since she first came to Chandrila and I’ve come to care about her. A lot. She’s special. She’s smart and she’s sweet and— and she’s been through a lot.”

_I know,_ Ben thinks sadly. He senses exactly where Paige is going and starts to feel sick.

“She’s strong, but still naive sometimes— like most sixteen year olds. She has a lot of love to give, even after the life she’s lived, but… I’m not sure she always knows where best to put it. You know, how to keep herself safe. And I feel a responsibility to make sure she’s safe.”

Ben nods, jaw tense. “Okay. You can just say it, Paige.”

“Alright, then. Here it is: Are you sure you should do this? Have you thought about, you know… what’s best for her here?”

He stares at her with a hard mask of an expression, faced with the many questions nestled within her own: _Is it right to do this to Rey? Do you really think you’re good for her? Are you truly in her best interest?_

“I get what you’re saying,” Ben says carefully, trying to keep the shake out of his voice. “I do. But— but you don’t know. You just— believe me, you just don’t know.”

“Ben,” she reasons as kindly as possible. There’s no malice in her words whatsoever— they’re gentle, even. “We both know who Rey is. And… and we both know what you are.”

He has to look away. 

He doesn’t blame Paige, really. He doesn’t blame her for thinking he isn’t good enough for Rey, for wanting to protect her from him. He doesn’t even blame her for seemingly believing he’s bad. She’s grown up in Chandrila with him, after all— she’s been there to witness each fiasco, every horrible or shocking thing he’s done over the years. She’s only trying to look out for Rey. And Rey deserves to be looked out for.

Paige gives him the space to think.

“ _We both know what you are."_

He certainly thought he knew for a very long time. He was sure of it. He clung to it. He made it his identity. He wore it as armor.

But then he met Rey. He met her, he let her know the truth of him, and she looked him in the eyes and told him point-blank that he was wrong. She’d _promised_ him that he was wrong.

He’d wanted to believe her so badly. Only because he trusted her did he let himself consider it.

But he chooses to believe her now. Fully. He takes her word over Paige’s. 

Most of the things that got him deemed him ‘bad’ by others were, at their root, reactions— they were twisted ways to keep his spirit afloat. They never honestly reflected what he truly was or wanted. Rey was right— both of them were unfairly forced to handle things long before they were ready or able to in life. They managed it in the only ways they could, and some ways might’ve been bad or twisted in order to survive and keep on surviving. But that doesn’t make them bad people. There’s a difference. She taught him that. She freed him from the lie he used against himself every day. Other people won’t always understand that, but at least they know the truth. He is not bad, nor a monster, nor an animal. He never was.

“I do know who Rey is,” Ben tells Paige, meeting her gaze again. “Which is why I know she is more than capable of keeping herself safe and choosing where to ‘put her love’ herself.”

She crosses her arms.

“And I’m not who you think I am, not when it comes to this. I would do anything for Rey— even leave her alone, if she asked me to. I love her. And it’s unconditional.”

Paige merely watches him, expressionless. Ben waits, giving space for a rebuttal that doesn’t come. What else can he say? He can’t even be mad at her for this— he can’t antagonize her for being protective.

“Thank you, Paige. I’m serious. Thank you for caring about Rey and for talking to me and everything. I’m glad she has someone like you.” He pushes a hand through his hair as he tries to find the words, then lets it flop right back down to his side. “And you don’t have to believe me about this, but I know I’m right. I know Rey, I know myself, and I know it’s right. I— I just do. Okay?”

After a long silence, with her arms still crossed, Paige nods once. “Okay.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said ‘okay.’ I believe you,” she explains succinctly. Just like that, she moves right along. “I have to go back to the booth— Cal doesn’t know how to handle an actual fucking camera and I rented that lens without insurance like an idiot. See you in class.”

Paige gives him one last appraising look and disappears into the crowd.

Ben is left standing in her wake, wondering what the hell just happened. 

“… Yeah. See you.”

That was bizarre.

He can’t figure out what it was that he said that convinced her. He barely said anything, and what he did say was vague and impossible to prove. Jesus. The whole interaction lasted less than three minutes and yet he feels like he just survived something much greater.

He gives himself twenty seconds to recover from the shock and confusion before picking himself up and continuing with his search. He makes it to the end of the first row, all without any sign of Rey. The beginning of the second row is mostly political and debate-oriented groups at first, gradually sliding into student government. He makes as little eye contact as possible, knowing someone will probably try to stop him to sign something if he does.

The longer Ben walks around, the longer he has to think about Paige’s underhanded character assault. It ended as well as it possibly could’ve, but he still starts to feel doubt creep into him like a delayed reaction. He needs to find Rey soon or else he’s going to start talking himself out of doing this at all. 

Because, thinking now, even if he and Rey are right together, being with a dude who’s most well-known for attempted patricide isn’t exactly every girl’s dream. He would drag her down, and probably a lot, just by being connected to her. Maybe it’d be best if he left now and came up with a new, more rational plan. Maybe he should give himself some time and space to rethink things with this new perspective. _No! No, you fucker._ It’s happening— he’s trying to talk himself out _. Just keep looking. Keep. Going._ God, he feels like he’s going to throw up. It’s a problem he never used to have but now seems to fight constantly. He hates it.

A curious jingling sound draws his attention near the end of the second row. It grows closer. Suddenly someone grabs Ben’s elbow, catching up to him from behind. Ben pulls him arm away, turning to look.

_Oh, fuck._

Ben throws Vic backwards, then quickly turns and scans the immediate area for the rest of them. They wouldn’t start a fight here, would they? No, they’re not _that_ dumb. Besides, he can’t think of any reason they’d want to, unless he’s missing something. But he still wouldn’t put it completely past them.

“It’s just me,” Vic whines, getting up from the grass. His wallet chain jingles against his leg as he rises. People simply walk around him, paying no attention to the scuffle.

“What the fuck?” Ben hisses. “Who else is with you?”

Vic looks pretty much the same as ever, except for his close-buzzed blondish head of hair being bright pink instead. It makes him look paler, more sickly. It works for his half-dead aesthetic.

“I just fucking told you, asshole, it’s just me!”

Ben scoffs and keeps walking. Vic jogs after him.

“Don’t you wanna know why I’m here?”

“No,” Ben answers, hard and flat.

“Hey, I’ll follow you around all night if I have to.”

Ben stops and turns right in Vic’s face. “This is not a good time to fuck with me.”

Vic takes a nervous step back and laughs, putting his hands up half-jokingly. “I’m not trying to fuck with you— I just want to talk.”

Ben channels the full surge of aggression in his body into shoving Vic off to the side and out of the way of main traffic. _“Fine,”_ he hisses. “What is it, what do you want?”

Vic balances himself, then hesitates. He puts his hands up again— this time in the universal ‘calm-down’ gesture. “Listen— I just— I wanted to say I was sorry. About last weekend.”

“Oh,” Ben points to his bruised face and broken nose, sarcastic. “This?”

“I didn’t _want_ to give you the address when you texted— I knew what would happen if you came. But Kuruk saw it over my shoulder and made me send it. I typed for forever thinking he’d go away, but—”

“I don’t _care_ anymore, Vic. I’m done, remember? Why are you here?” He even has a fucking wristband. That means Vic actually _paid_ to get in here for this, not even knowing for sure that Ben would be here. That’s a suspicious amount of effort from him.

Vic fidgets. Then, looking for a distraction, he scowls at the wide-eyed sophomore sitting behind the booth they’re blocking. He snaps. “The fuck are _you_ looking at?”

The poor kid jumps and knocks over his soda; Vic smirks like the asshole he is. Ben rolls his eyes.

“Leave the fucking chess club alone.” He pushes them back, out of the way of the booth. “Tell me why you’re chasing me down.”

Vic nods to placate him, seeming to struggle for words. Finally he scratches his head and shrugs in a fuck-it sort of way. 

“Alright, yeah. So— it turns out Kuruk fucking sucks.”

“Oh my god,” Ben groans, covering his face with a hand. They’re exactly like tween girls sometimes, causing unnecessary drama and deciding who’s in and who’s out.

“Seriously!” Vic insists. “He has zero fucking loyalty, he’s bringing randoms in, he let some fucked-up shit happen to Cardo the other day in broad—”

_“Vic!_ How is this my problem?”

Vic sighs, his tone lowering to something more serious. “Everyone wants you back, man.”

Ben shakes his head. This is unbelievable. “Yeah— no they don’t.”

“Yes they do, I swear. We’re all behind you,” Vic implores. “Seriously, all of us. Kuruk can literally go to hell after the shit he pulled this week. Ask anyone. Nobody else knows how to keep shit together like you, and I can tell they actually miss you.”

“It’s not gonna happen. Go home, Vic.”

“Come on, just come talk to them. We’re all going to the Roxie tonight like old times— come with me. It’ll be super chill, no pressure. We can just make things simple again, no bone heads or power plays. Easy. Like old times. We all need it.”

Ben takes a deep breath to the night sky. He can’t stop the thought from entering his mind— he’d stop feeling like he’s going to throw up if he just went with Vic, if he took that shelter. _Simple_ sounds excruciatingly good right now. He might’ve been a little emotionally stagnant in his glory days with his friends, but at least he wasn’t uncomfortable and terrified every waking second of every day.

Vic shuffles closer.

“Come on, man. I know we were dicks to you sometimes, but that’ll stop. I swear. We’ll knock it off with the teasing about the therapy shit, I know you hated that. You won’t ever have to talk about that crap with us— and we’ll never ask you to change like that bullshit does, okay? We’ll just be there, like always. Please just come hang out. This place is a fucking nightmare, anyway, don’t you think?”

It would be so easy. Ben proved to himself this year that he could change, even if only a little. Part of him wonders if he couldn’t just be proud of that— if that couldn’t be enough for now. If he could just rest. He doesn’t want to live in a constant state of discomfort for the sake of perpetual self-betterment, especially if it all it leads to is a life of equally perpetual pain. Recently _everything_ has hurt, even when he’s doing the right thing. Even the good things, which are often earned only by ripping open old hurts first, can be painful— just in a new way.

Being with his friends never agonized him like this. Being with his friends never poked at healed wounds. Being with his friends never made him do something he didn’t want to do or think about something he didn’t want to think about. They took him as he was, every day. They gave him shit, but they never expected any more than he could give. They were safe, in an odd way— one of the only things that ever was in his life.

“This place is a fucking nightmare,” Ben agrees quietly.

Vic’s eyes light up. “Yeah? Wanna go?”

Ben doesn’t answer, just stares at the ground. He won’t do this. Of course not. He won’t just leave everything here. He won’t actually go with Vic. It’s not even a question. So why is he frozen? Why does his throat feel stuck? Why can’t he just say the word ‘no?’

Vic laughs in relief. “Dude, they’re gonna be so fucking glad to see you, you have no idea.”

Just then, a faint tune starts playing from his pocket— a ringtone. He takes his phone out to check the caller and, as the audio gets clearer, Ben identifies the song— it’s a Buzzcocks song. It’s a fucking Buzzcocks song. The iconic melody that he’s listened to a million times, the one that he associates purely with Rey, slaps him in the face. Hard.

It’s like getting a shot of clarity straight into the bloodstream. He closes his eyes.

He knows why he’s hesitating, of course. It’s the siren call of old comforts. But choosing willful numbness like that isn’t _safe_ — it’s just nothing at all. He already learned this. He’s already had this fucking talk with himself today, maybe even twice. Risk is the only way forward, and discomfort is the price. That’s just how it is. He’s going to have to choose it over and over again, even when he doesn’t want to. There is no other choice. He can’t go back, not if he ever wants more from life. _Rey._ Fuck. He has to find Rey.

“Vic, I can’t.”

Vic quickly sends the call to voicemail, his smile fading. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I just can’t. But you guys don’t need me. I know you don’t. You’ll be fine.” Ben throws him a bone. “And hey— maybe you should pick up the slack.”

This throws him off— he takes it. “What, me?”

“You took the initiative to come here, didn’t you?”

Vic blinks, like he never considered this. _Dumbass,_ Ben thinks with a strange fondness. He’s clearly the one who cares the most.

“I’m going now,” Ben says firmly but not unkindly. Vic was a real friend for a long time. He doesn’t hate the guy— it’s just time to move on. It’s time. “Take care, Vic.”

Vic, maybe seeing the resolve in him, does not fight it. He simply nods once in solemn understanding, which Ben returns gratefully. 

And with that, Ben turns around, continues on, and does not look back. 

Although he’s been surviving this torture gauntlet of a school event so far, Ben starts to feel a little desperate as he nears the end of the third and final row.

So far he’s seen no sign of Rey nor any of her friends. It’s possible that she’s been roaming around and acting as somewhat of a moving target, but the thought doesn’t comfort him much. What if she’s not here at all? What if Hux was playing some sort of sick trick on him, or was even just simply mistaken?

His pulse skips when he catches sight of the robotics club tent, but she’s not there. Neither is Poe, who Ben would completely and honestly be glad to talk to right now if it meant gleaning any useful information. 

The final row ends as all the others did— in the food court area, which connects them all. 

He’s reevaluating his approach to the whole operation when he spots a girl and stops. She’s sitting alone at a picnic table, crying in the darkest corner of the end zone. She’s not Rey, but he knows her and feels drawn to her, despite his true purpose lying elsewhere. He just follows his gut and goes.

“Tallie?” he greets carefully.

She jolts her head up, then relaxes. “Oh. Ben. Hey.” She wipes her face with the long sleeves of her striped shirt. “What are you doing here?”

“Kind of a long story. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” She sniffs. Then, in the next breath, “Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you.”

“Understood,” Ben says without hesitation. He notices, despite the crying, she looks nicer than usual— straightened hair, eyeliner, dangly earrings. “But… now that I’m sworn to secrecy, you might as well tell me what happened.”

Tallie glares. “You never fucking talk to any of us. What is this? What’s wrong with you?”

Not having the words to defend himself, he just shrugs. “I can go.”

She chews her lip. “No. No, it’s fine.”

Ben sits across from her. 

“I got stood up. Ta-da. Happens to people all the time, I know. Still sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.”

She leans her cheek forward on her fist. “You know how Dr. Holdo is always trying to get us to _trust_ and _be open_ and shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. This is why I don’t.”

“What, because one person was a dick?”

“No, because trusting people always backfires, and this is just one more example of that,” she snaps. “You can’t trust anyone. I know at least _you_ understand that.”

“I don’t know,” Ben says, really just thinking aloud. Then he laughs. “I don’t think I fucking understand anything, actually.”

“Shut up— yes you do,” she frowns.

“Sorry, what?”

“We might not talk, okay, but I _know_ from group that you’re literally the only other person who gets it. So please don’t tell me you’re buying into the hippy shit now.”

“I’m not. I’ve just… been proven wrong about a lot of stuff recently.”

Tallie slams a stuffed elephant from her lap onto the table like she’s punishing it. _“God,”_ she nearly shouts. “You’re slipping into la-la land with the rest of them.”

Ben lets her fume for a moment. He knows that fury. Then he gestures. “Did you win that?”

She follows his gaze to the elephant and looks annoyed. “Yeah. I was killing time. My date’s kind of obsessed with safari-type animals and so I thought, you know, why not. But then he… you know.”

She stares at the poor thing with pure, unadulterated hatred. 

“Shit,” Ben grimaces. “Safari animals? Dodged a bullet.”

Tallie cracks into a tiny smile. “Yeah— I know. Spent all my fucking tickets on it, too. Gross.”

“Make him pay you back. Double.”

She shakes her head. “More trouble than it’s worth. I’ve been through this before with him, actually. I don’t know why I ever expect people to change.”

“Maybe because it happens,” Ben tries. He can’t help it— he sees exactly how Tallie is deluding herself into believing the world is bleak and hopeless because it’s simpler. He knows that game; he knows it’s a trap.

“Not really,” she sighs. “People don’t ever really change. It’s sad, but it’s true.”

“It’s probably easier to think that, yeah.”

Tallie looks up, eyes hard and fierce. “Ben, you _know_ what I’m talking about. I know you do. People like us have protect ourselves— and part of that is being honest about the world. No one else will do it for us.”

“I don’t think you’re being honest. I think you’re being cynical.”

“Wow. They’ve really gotten to you. They’ve brainwashed you into their cult of mindfulness and coloring books and meditation, haven’t they? Do you have a script under the table there? Are you trying to convert me?”

“Alright,” Ben laughs. “You can believe whatever you want to believe, Tallie.”

She sits back and crosses her arms, satisfied.

Ben’s reminded of something. “Do you remember what Rey said at the beginning of the year? Something about… ‘risking it’ with people?”

“Yeah,” Tallie sighs quietly. “I’ve tried. But I’m not like her.” He knows what she means.

“Neither am I,” he admits. “But… still.”

Tallie watches him curiously as he gets lost in a train of thought from there. They sit like that for a while.

“Hey,” Ben interrupts the silence finally. “You want rid of the elephant, yeah?”

Her eyebrows come together and she smiles. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Great. I’ll trade you my tickets for it.”

“What? You can’t—“

Ben starts peeling the sticker off his wristband. It takes some doing, but he gets it off in one piece and sticks it over top of hers. 

“I would’ve given it to you for free, you know,” she laughs.

“I don’t need them, anyway. This is the reimbursement you deserve for a shitty night. Buy yourself some cotton candy. Win an animal from another climate. Whatever.”

Tallie smiles as Ben claims the elephant, standing.

He tests the weight of it between his hands, looking around. “Oh, yeah— you haven’t you seen Rey around here, have you?”

“Rey?” she thinks. “Yeah, I saw her.”

Ben whirls. _“What?”_ he nearly shouts. “You did?” He was sitting here this whole time while Tallie fucking _knew_ where Rey was?

Tallie crosses her arms, smiling smugly. “Is it true, what they’re saying? About you guys?”

“Fuck, maybe,” Ben scoffs with a grin, adrenaline taking over. “Depends. Where is she? Where did you see her?”

“I mean it was like twenty minutes ago, but she was at the football booth with her brother. First row up front.”

Holy shit. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you, Tallie,” he stresses, jogging backwards. 

She salutes. “Sure. Go… risk stuff, cult boy!”

Ben smiles in thanks, takes a single beat to prepare himself, turns— and runs.

Running is a generous term— he still has to weave through the hoards, which slows him down significantly. More accurate descriptors would be ‘pushing’ and ‘shoving.’ Maybe it’s impractical and unnecessary to rush at all— because either he finds her or he doesn’t, really— but Ben just can’t hold back anymore. He’s spent too much time in his life acting out over shit that didn’t matter and holding back when things did, but now that’s over. Now he runs.

He can feel others watching him, but he doesn’t care. He must look insane and terrifying, but he doesn’t care. This will probably follow him for years now that it has an audience, but he doesn’t care.

The traffic isn’t as bad in the first row as it was on his first pass, so he’s able to get through more smoothly this time. As he draws nearer to photo club, it occurs to him that he literally has no idea what he’s going to say to her. This whole time he’s been tripping over himself just to _get_ to her and yet he never took a second to consider the words he’d need. It’s too late now. 

She’s not at the football tent when he gets there, but he’s not discouraged yet. Tallie said she saw her here some twenty minutes ago, so it makes sense she’d be gone by now. The hope is that she's still somewhere in the vicinity.

He takes a centering breath and just listens. Top 40 music plays on speakers behind him. A girl squeals excitedly about something in the cheerleading tent. Some guys argue about who they’re going to dunk in the dunk tank. A couple parents discuss colleges. Camera and iPhone shutters clicking everywhere. Balloons pop sporadically from some distance away. 

He moves closer to that sound on instinct. Following it takes him about twenty-five yards down the row to the tennis team’s booth, where they have a dart-throwing game set up. 

He hears her laugh before he sees her— but then he does. He sees Rey.

Under the floodlights and the glow of colored LEDS, everything feels a bit unreal.

The first thing he notices is the sheer amount of life radiating from her. 

She’s giggling at something her brother just said, her smile lighting up everything in a ten foot radius. Her hair is loose and wavy, her cheeks alive with color. Even the way she holds herself is bright somehow. She’s wearing plain black skinny jeans and a plain white C.H.S. Robotics t-shirt, and yet she is genuinely the most extraordinary thing he’s ever seen. Somehow he knows deep down that he’ll never be able to see another person this way. And somehow he’s okay with that.

Maybe he should be afraid right now— he hasn’t seen her since the night of the dance, he doesn’t know what he’s going to say, and he has reason to believe she’s given up on him, after all.

But he’s not. Standing here now and looking at her, all the fear drains from Ben.

It’s then that, dart in hand, Rey pauses suddenly. Finn notices with a degree of concern but, before he can say anything, she turns her head in Ben’s direction. Inexplicably, even from fifteen yards away, she looks through the crowd straight at him as though she’d felt his gaze.

Ben doesn’t move and neither does she. She looks stunned more than anything— there are no clues in her expression. For a long uncertain moment, all he can do is hope.

It feels like a movie— all the noises around him become muffled and distorted. Rey is literally the only thing in focus. All the people walking between them are just unreal, unimportant blurs. He’s not sure he’s breathing. 

_Please,_ he thinks. It’s the only word he can summon to mind. _Please._

It’s agony, but he waits. It’s her choice whether she even wants to speak to him to begin with, so he waits. If this is it, then this is it, Ben tells himself. He meant it when he told Paige that he’d leave Rey alone if that’s what she wanted. Slowly, as the milliseconds tick on, he prepares himself for that reality.

He takes a good look at her. The wispy curls around her face. Her eyelashes. Her freckles. Her eyes— the clearest, brightest hazel color he’s even seen. They were one of the first things he noticed about her. They’re one of the many things he won’t ever be able to forget. But it’s alright— he wants to remember, even if it hurts.

Rey blinks a few times as though clearing her thoughts and confirming his presence. Then, slowly, a smile starts to spread across her face.

Ben doesn’t react, not entirely sure that this is real.

Without looking away, she tosses the dart in her hand back onto the counter and starts towards him.

He tries to process it as it’s happening, frozen in place— Rey saw him. Then she smiled. And now walking towards him. 

No— she’s running now. She’s beaming at him and _running._ His brain can barely keep up.

As she closes the last of the distance, Ben watches her and feels the stuffed elephant fall from his hand like it’s all in slow motion.

And then Rey is right there, right in front of him, throwing herself right into his arms.

“Ben!”

He catches her with a grunt— it hurts like hell on his ribs, but he catches her in the air and holds her against him anyway. The pain is nothing. It’s nothing— not to him, not for her.

_“Are you really here?”_ He can’t see her face, but he hears the fragility in her voice.

“Yes.”

_“But are you really, really here?”_

His heart balloons. “Yes. Yes, really really _._ From here on out, yes.”

“Thank god,” she whispers. “Because I fucking need you.”

He buries his face in her hair, feeling like he might cry from relief. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

“No, no more. No more sorries. Let’s be happy now.”

“Okay,” he agrees with a breathless laugh. It’s that simple if she says it is.

“No— really, Ben. I love you and I want to be your person, too, okay? So can we just start that?” she demands. “Can we knock the other shit off and start that now, please?”

Ben nods into her neck, overflowing with a warm fullness he’s never felt. It’s out of control. He might drown in it. “Yes. Yes, right now.”

“Thank you.”

She pulls back from him, and he lets her slide back down to her feet. Her hands gently reach up to either side of his bruised face, eyes wide with worry. They flicker to his mostly-healed split lip.

“Does it hurt? Is it okay if— if I—”

Ben laughs disbelievingly and just kisses her before he explodes.

The crowd around them erupts into cheers. Ben doesn’t give a single fuck. He barely registers it. He kisses Rey like he needs her to breathe, which sometimes it feels like he does. He’s careful with his nose, but otherwise doesn’t hold back. It’s Rey who pulls away first with dark pink cheeks, shy and laughing. People make more unimportant noise.

Ben watches her face as she surveys and reacts to their apparent audience, not taking his eyes off her for a second. He wants to memorize every detail of her. She’s the only thing that matters. Nothing else could ever matter more. 

He’s going to marry this girl. Not now, maybe not soon, but he will.

Ben finally takes his gaze away to glance around at the onlookers, as well. There’s Cal, Paige, and the rest of the photo club. Finn, Rose, and Poe. Random athletes in the area who happened to witness it. General crowd members who also happened to witness it. Kaydel, who he didn’t even realize was here. He even spots Tallie in the back. Who knew so many people cared? 

“Thank you very much,” Ben yells over their noise, letting his voice carry. They quiet down. He can’t help it, he smiles. “But the show’s over. Now fuck off, please!” 

Rey snorts with laughter, hiding her face against his arm. He gathers her all the way into his chest, loosely settling his arms over her to further protect her from curious eyes. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels so good. How is he ever supposed to leave her alone again? How is he supposed to let go?

People disperse slowly, chattering.

Rey tilts her head up at him. “Is that for me?”

He’s too busy smiling at her like an idiot to hear her. “What?”

She jerks her chin at the elephant on the ground.

“Oh— yeah, actually, it is.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet. The blue bear can have a friend now.”

“Oh,” Ben winces. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to reclaim custody of Blue. I never got my share of time with him, and I _really_ don’t want to involve lawyers.”

Rey shoves him, laughing, then immediately pulls him back down for another kiss.

→

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vibes: “The Last of the Real Ones” by Fall Out Boy [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YAAyUFL1GQ) [[ x ]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ)
> 
> In the week after TROS, I heard about Pete Wentz being a reylo and looked into it on twitter because I thought that was amazing and hilarious and, shocker, I was very sad. I saw him answer a question on there about writing a reylo anthem with something like, ‘I basically already did— The Last of the Real Ones’ so I listened to it it and BOY. I clung to that shit like a life raft for like two months, lol. I wasn’t even a fan of the band before but the song struck a chord. If you read the lyrics, you’ll see exactly what I mean when I say this song was the groundwork for the spirit of the story and its characterizations. It gave me a very deep, specific feeling about very a specific kind of desperate hope and longing, and the feeling was so strong that I felt the need to translate it like this in a story. Basically, this story came directly from this song. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the end-end. I hope it lives up to my promise of a happy ending. I did my best.
> 
> Also!! I purposefully have not yet read any of the comments on Chapter 9 because I knew I would psych myself out while writing this if I knew what people were thinking or feeling about it. So if you were wondering why I didn't respond to your comment until now, that's why lol! I just know myself and I did it to avoid playing further mind games with myself, but I'm so grateful for every single one and I can't wait to read then rn!
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	11. and all the stars beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > I will be your home, keep you warm when it's cold  
> I will try to be what you need when you're low  
> I can only promise the girl that I am  
> I'll do anything that I can

Rey gets him to actually participate with the fundraising event after that. She plays him in the dart game— which she wins, but only by two points. They get their photos taken together (which he tries and fails to resist,) patiently collect a million club pamphlets, and even sign some petitions from student government. It’s all stuff he’d never do on his own, but enjoys with her. Anywhere she went, he’d follow, really.

She tells him all about the drama with her friends and ‘fucking _Andrea’_ from robotics club. He listens and laughs and suggests wildly inappropriate levels of retaliation. He tells her about Kuruk and his dad and the trip to Kijimi. And in the process, not for the first time, he notices how good of a listener Rey is. Unlike with others, he’s entirely comfortable with it, as well as with all her questions.

He remembers going to bed on first night they met, staring at the ceiling, and sorting through his awe. One of the things he couldn’t get over was the way _he_ acted around her— the way she made him want to talk and talk forever. And about anything, too— including himself. No one else has been able to elicit that from him before or since, and Rey didn’t even have to try. 

Through comparing stories, they uncover the con that Hux pulled on Ben earlier in the night. Neither of them have the energy or the will to be too angry, though— not when he ultimately sort of helped by being a dick and manipulating Ben into taking action. Rey assures him that his letter never caused any sort of loss of hope for her— not even close. It’s a relief to hear, but Ben makes a metal note to have some words about it with his pal Armie later.

Having sat around for too long, Ben slings Rey over his back and carries them through the rows as all the tents are being torn down at closing, just for the hell of it. It’s an apparent new tradition regarding them and fairs, among others. They agree to remember to bring a double-sided flask and a joint to the next one that pops up. 

Han, in a very cool move, gave Ben his keys and left the Falcon in the parking lot for him. It allows him to drive her and a very cautiously friendly Finn home to meet their curfew. He’s determined to be good in every way he can now— he’s determined to be a good boyfriend.

They spend almost every single day of Winter Break together, to the annoyance of most everyone around them. 

Ben shows her all the best natural spots around Chandrila that he didn’t get to show her before, as well as all his favorite coffee shops and movie theaters and literally anything else he thinks she’d like. Rey makes him cooperate when she takes lots of photos of him on their travels to ‘make things even’ for what he did with the word project. She starts a scrapbook album about it, which Ben pretends to hate because it’s on-brand and makes her laugh, but secretly loves.

Leia invites Rey over for Christmas Eve, having fallen in love with the girl herself to the point of smothering. Ben apologizes on her behalf, but Rey really doesn’t mind it at all. Meanwhile, Han and Rey quickly become actual, legitimate friends— something that Ben finds simultaneously funny and borderline disturbing. 

Maz confirms her own approval wordlessly by giving Ben a decent pair of moisture-wicking hiking socks and a chocolate bar for Christmas despite the short notice. Rey assures him it’s a very good thing. Finn is next, caving in and admitting that he likes him after they all spend some time together— often watching movie marathons at their house when it snows.

Rey is never, ever surprised when people come around to him. Ben was _‘just bad at marketing himself’_ before he had her to help, she insists. He thinks she gives him too much credit. She thinks the whole world would love him if they got to see what she did.

She brings him to a New Years Eve party with the rest of her extended friend group, all of whom approach him with a promising sort of optimistic curiosity. Poe gets really drunk really early in the night and gives Ben a bear hug and an apology in front of everyone— a moment Rey claims she will remember forever as the time she almost died laughing from the look on Ben’s face. It’s sweet, though, because she knows Poe means it. Ben awkwardly hugs Poe back and accepts his invitation to “get fish n’ chips sometime.” They’re never best friends or anything, but they’re alright after that.

They’ve both mastered the art of sneaking out. Almost nothing can stop them from finding their way to each other when they really want to. Rey spends countless nights curled up in Ben’s bed, oftentimes just to be next to him when he needs her during a bad day or week. She learns what helps him with what and uses it— her fingers in his hair, reading aloud, the right words, certain songs and movies. He listens to her more than he listens to anyone else, and vice versa. Ben helps her, too, and is there every time she asks without exception. He can be intense, but it turns out that’s what she needs— someone who treats her thoughts as though they’re were serious and world-ending as they feel. He knows how to help with specific reassurances or arguments, tight hugs or silent company, and sometimes just getting her away from others when she needs it. They find their only true shelter in each other and hold on.

At some point their parents try to get a handle on them and their out-of-control patterns including their unsanctioned sleeping arrangements, but ultimately leave them alone. Han and Leia learn that Ben just does a thousand time better when Rey’s around, and Maz learns that Rey really needs whatever she’s getting and trusts her to handle it. And there is also, of course, the fact that it’s virtually impossible to stop them, anyway. So after a couple of months, the parents seem to decide that they’re good kids with good intentions in extenuating circumstances and just… let them be. 

And with that, Ben and Rey are left alone to lean on one another on their own terms the way they do best, and thrive for it.

People are sometimes confused by their relationship— they’ll catch glimpses of its intensity and don’t know how to interpret it, especially since they’re so young. Ben and Rey typically keep a low profile to avoid prying, but the truth is that their relationship is different than most and they know it. They’re young, but they understand each other more fully and honestly than a lot of people ever know themselves. And while it’s not perfectly explainable, their connection is built on something more than love alone. When strangers get a sense of this, they can feel fascinated or even uncomfortable without being able to put into words why.

It explains why separation feels like amputation.

Ben graduates from Chandrila High in the Spring. Rey makes a big deal out of it because it’s a big deal to her— it was never guaranteed that anybody would graduate high school where she grew up in Jakku. She sees it as a meaningful accomplishment and not just a checked box. She throws him a small party and, when everyone goes home, Ben kisses her until she forgets her name. Later he admits to her that graduating means something to him, too— it means he’s survived longer than the fifteen year old version of himself officially predicted he would. She feels from him how liberating and terrifying the prospect is. She draws him closer and combs through his hair until he falls asleep.

They spend the summer mostly ignoring the fact that he leaves for college in the Fall. Ben teaches her how to drive both stick and automatic. Rey passes her driving test and gets her license. They spend their days inseparable, oftentimes alone at his grandparents’ lake house, seemingly falling off the face of the earth for days at a time.

Despite the unhealthy, obsessive appearance of their connection, everyone who actually knows Ben and Rey knows it’s not actually like that at all. Not that anyone fully understands it, but they know enough to not get in the way. They know not to touch it, to mess with it, to challenge it. From the outside, it sort of seems like the two of them exist on their own plane of existence together— like they’re untouchable and unknowable to all but each other. That’s just how they are and how it is. Everyone in their lives just sort of accepts it because, once you know them and actually see them together, it’s hard to deny that they should be any other way.

Rey helps Ben and his dad move him into his dorm at the state college at the end of summer. The school is nearly four hours away from Chandrila— not the worst possible distance, but still not at all good. When they’re alone and it’s time to say goodbye, Rey starts crying like she’s never cried before. Ben grabs her when she wobbles and lowers her to the floor with him, holding her tight to him for as long as it takes. She sobs into his shoulder for close to thirty minutes while somehow simultaneously threatening him not to give up or drop out. He rubs her back and promises he won’t over and over until she believes him. Once she gets back home, she doesn’t cry again for months.

Senior year is both the easiest and hardest thing she’s ever had to do. Academically, easy. Everything else, not as much. Ben made her promise not to check out on life, so she participates with her clubs, her friends, and Dr. Holdo’s group as much as she usually would. It’s harder now to care about some things, but she’s glad she stays involved. Most of it gets easier with time. What doesn’t get easier, though, is overhearing some of the younger assholes at school talk shit about her and Ben. Pretty much everyone at the school has seen them together and knows some variation of their story, so they all think they’re being clever and relevant by joking in the halls about Rey not being a whole person without him. She wouldn’t be so upset about it if she didn’t legitimately feel like that sometimes, despite knowing it’s not true. She just misses him.

What really saves her in the beginning is Han, who officially moves back to Chandrila full time and gets her back to working on cars again. They spend hours in his garage and Rey _loves_ it— it’s just what she needed in her life, and she throws herself head first into it. Sometimes Ben’s uncle Chewie hangs out with them, too, and it’s almost like she has a whole new friend group. Spending time with them, talking on the phone with Ben, and the continuously amazing friendship of Rose, Finn, and Poe are what keep her together at first. After a while, she feels stable and self-sustaining again.

Even so, she continues spending a lot of time at the Organa-Solo residence. Maybe unhealthy amounts of it, but it makes her feel better. A lot of the time she sneaks up to Ben’s room and just curls up on the bed or in his chair in the beating silence. Sometimes she sleeps there. Or does her homework there. Mostly she daydreams and tries to remember what it was like when they weren’t separated like this. She feels taunted by the past and terrified of the future.

Holidays are the best, though, when Ben comes home and she gets to see his face in real life and kiss him and ask him questions and just never leave him alone, in general. A sophomore that Rose is mentoring asks Rey during lunch once if she’s worried about Ben and all the college girls. Rose and Finn look at each other and burst into laughter. When the confused girl looks to Rey for explanation, Rey just smiles and tells her no.

Rey gets into six of the eight school that she applied to. She cries over the phone when she tells Ben about it just from hearing how proud and excited he is. At the end of the day, it’s always his opinion that matters to her more than anyone else’s. It just is. He helps her decide. She can’t consider some of them because of their shitty, insufficient financial aid offers. One of them is a safety that she’s not thrilled about. Out of the two final contenders, she chooses the University of Coruscant.

Ben surprises her by showing up to her graduation after telling her he couldn’t make it because of a school thing. She practically tackles him when she sees him, knocking his bouquet of beautiful yellow flowers straight to the ground. He swings her around in circles as she clutches tight, crying happy tears for once. It’s the best graduation gift she could’ve gotten. Later that night, though, he pulls her aside at Maz’s small dinner party.

“I’m transferring.”

Rey, tired and fuzzy from wine, blinks a few times. “You’re answering?”

“No, no— transferring,” he says with a laugh, taking her hands. “Schools.”

She frowns to think. “Oh. Don’t you do that after two years, though?”

He watches their entwined hands in his lap. “No— not necessarily.”

“Oh, okay.” Then worry sparks in her voice. “Wait, no— where are you going?” 

He looks up then, trying and failing to hold back his grin. “Guess.”

They live in their first apartment across from the Coruscant campus for three years— three years of perfect chaos that gradually settle into perfect patterns they find together. The years yield countless friends, hours of frantic studying, too many house parties, a few existential breakdowns, a vast collection of new memories and traditions, and, finally, two college graduates.

On Rey’s twenty-first birthday, Ben comes home with a fluffy black Newfoundland puppy that she is _beside_ herself with joy over. That’s why Ben doesn’t understand why, two weeks after that, she brings home an additional sandy-colored mutt out of the blue.

“Cass was so _lonely,”_ she insists with those big round eyes when he comes home to the chaos. Ben tries, but he can’t stay mad at her for it. They keep both puppies and change their lifestyle to fit.

After graduation, they move deeper into the city to be closer to their jobs. It’s technically already their second home together, and they really make it one this time. There’s art and and flowers and memories all over the place, all the time. Ben’s portraits of Rey from high school are framed in the kitchen. All the stuffed animals they’ve ritually collected at fairs over the years live together on a specific chair in the living room. Music is important, too— Han gives them his old record player so they can actually play Ben’s vintage collection of old punk albums instead of just look at them.

Rey's career at Boeing is everything she ever wanted, but what she really treasures most about her life is at home. 

It’s waking up safe and warm next to Ben and getting to see how bad his hair got fucked up in the night. It’s the way he gets up way earlier than he needs to so he can hang out with her as she gets ready. It’s the kisses he never lets her leave without. It’s the walks they take every single day together with the dogs. His artistic eye in everything. The way he always wants to be holding her or touching her if he can, or at the least be in arm’s reach. Him jokingly fighting the dogs for her attention. His consistent thoughtfulness. Sometimes simply looking at him and knowing he’s hers. The way they sleep with their limbs all tangled up with his one arm always slung across her. His possessive streak. His soft streak. The way he can sense when something is wrong and always knows what to do about it. His unwavering patience with her and the thoughts she still can’t get completely rid of. It’s the total safety and wholeness that she’s only ever felt in his arms. 

Ben works multiple gigs as a photographer— it’s not his end goal, but god, is he lucky. There was a time in his life when he doubted he’d make it past his teens. But he’s twenty-five now, living in the city, making a living off a career with his camera, and living with the person he loves most in this world. 

Just that last part would be enough to call himself lucky— just the sound of her giggles, which she tried to hide from him in the beginning. Or watching her talk to the dogs in a baby voice when she thinks he’s not in the room. The wispy hairs that always frame her face, watching their degree of wildness varying from day to day. The way she asks for affection by literally just crawling on top of him or leaning against him and waiting. Her absolute failure as a cook. The way she can read his mind whenever he really needs her to. How she finds, frames, and hangs his work up without asking just because she likes it. The way she doesn’t ever hesitate to yell at people on the street for being rude. Her faith in him, and her patience. Always her patience— whether he’s angry or unresponsive or fully losing it. Sometimes, for him, all there is to do is wait for the bad moments to pass, but she never lets him do it alone. He never has to be alone.

Neither of them do. They support each other in everything. Their careers, their personal goals, recovery— all of it. Maybe all that excessive therapy as kids did serve them well, after all, because every step they take now as adults feels like the right one. As long as they’re together, it’s the right path. So maybe it really was good for them— maybe it taught them to think levelheadedly… to handle the bad times… to listen and help others… And then again, maybe it’s just as simple as they’re good for each other.

And maybe there’s no earthly reason for it at all. Maybe they were destined to find each other and be this happy no matter what, when, or how it happened. For Ben, whatever it is that gave him this, he’s grateful to— even if it’s as broad as the universe. 

When Maz passes away unexpectedly from a stroke, Ben stays alongside Rey every step of the way. He talks to the coroner over the phone on her behalf and deals with all of their travel arrangements. They go back to Chandrila to attend the funeral, then get drunk with Finn afterwards at Maz’s favorite bar. He decides to take a step back after a while to let her grieve with her brother in peace, but the second he suggests he should leave, the cold panic in her eyes stops him. He stays, realizing immediately that he should have known better. He was trying to be sensitive, but there are no exceptions that he has found yet— they’re always stronger together. Always. Rey stays glued to his side for the rest of the night, like she’s afraid he might disappear when she’s not looking.

They Uber back to Ben’s family house at the end of the night, a place incredibly heavy with memories. Rey is practically dead weight beside him at this point, so he scoops her up and carries her inside. She doesn’t say anything, just holds on and rests her head on his shoulder. He never takes this lightly— he’s the only person she ever lets take care of her.

Ben checks off just some of the landmarks of significance in his head as they head through the house to his old room. 

_That’s the chair his dad was sitting in when he stumbled in that night with his broken nose._

_That’s the couch Rey fell asleep on when she came and spoke to Han only an hour before._

_Those are the tiles on which Han was standing when he directly apologized to Ben for the first time and changed everything._

_This is the exact route he pulled Rey by the hand through when he brought her here after Phasma’s party._

_These are the steps she came down that next morning, wearing his sweater and scowling._

_This is the bed she knocked out cold on in the time it took him to grab dry clothes._

_This is the place where he admitted to himself that he loved her as she lay sleeping._

_This is where he first decided he wanted something more._

He sets her down on his old bed, the torrent of memories hitting him harder than he was prepared for. He kneels and takes off her shoes one at a time, reaches behind her to loosen the zipper of her dress, and nudges her until she gets all the way under covers. After he takes off his suit jacket, shoes, and belt, he gets in beside her, both of them tired and basically fully clothed. She makes a sad noise at the motion he causes on the bed. She’s going to be hungover as hell tomorrow— she went hard into that tequila. His dad should have what he’ll need to take care of her, though. It’ll be okay.

After he settles, Rey scoots closer, not stopping until he drapes his arm over her and kisses the top of her head.

“Thank you,” she mumbles.

He smiles. So polite. 

“It’s going to be okay, sunshine,” he murmurs into her hair. “If not right now, then later. And I’ll be here.”

“I know,” she says, muffled by his chest. She twists her face up to his, but just for comfort— her eyes stay closed, sleepy. She’s unfairly lovely, even while smashed. She sighs. “I love you.”

Ben is unexpectedly paralyzed by the words. They say it to each other all the time, but something about hearing it in this room in this moment does something to him. It’s overwhelming— the memories, their history, the reminders of everything they’ve overcome. He remembers pining after her in constant agony through photo classes and therapy groups like it was last week. But it wasn’t last week. He isn’t that kid anymore. He’s changed more than he sometimes even cares to remember. But it was only because of her that it happened at all— from the very beginning, it was Rey. It was always her. And it always will be.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. But she’s asleep.

Ben turns his head to the ceiling, sleep feeling suddenly unimportant.

Rey has always been secure in her relationship with Ben. Always— that’s just how it is with them. That’s how it’s been from the start.

That’s why she feels like she’s going mad now— because, for some reason, Rey has been picking up _vibes_ from him. Frequently, and for weeks. Normally she can read exactly what he’s thinking or feeling with almost nothing to go off of, but not whatever this is. She feels like she’s lost one of her basic senses. It’s horrible.

When he asks her to come along on his work assignment to Seattle, Rey of course agrees— she has plenty of time saved up at her own work and has always wanted to go. It occurs to her at the start the journey that the trip itself might be what’s been stressing him out— but, as soon as they got off the plane in Washington, she can tell it isn’t. Just looking at him, she can tell.

She keeps quiet in the cab on the whole way to the hotel, hoping it’ll draw his thoughts out of him— but no. He doesn’t notice her silence at all. He just writes in his notebook, clueless. His eyes are obscured from her by the dark hair hanging down around his face as he concentrates. For the first time in years, Rey falls asleep beside him while feeling miles away. It feels wrong. Cold.

The next day is essentially a free day for him, apparently. Rey finds that weird and a poor allocation of funds by the Coruscant Times, but she doesn’t complain. Ben seems to know exactly what he wants to do with the time, at least. They go to one of the piers on the Puget Sound and get drinks from a random miner-themed restaurant. It’s a weird choice, but fine. He’s allowed to stress-drink sometimes. Sometimes it gets fun. She joins him in solidarity. 

Back outside, Rey notes that the pier itself looks like a hot, fun family destination— or at least it would be, if it weren’t raining and completely empty. At least the giant, new-looking ferris wheel looks like it’s operating, even if nothing else is. 

Ben smiles and nods towards it, the strong wind pushing all his hair to one side. He’s truly grown into every inch of himself, she thinks. His face has only grown more handsome with time— not that she thought his features didn’t fit his face perfectly before, but she can’t deny now that it’s just different. He was alway genuinely beautiful but now he’s… striking, too. Coupled with his build, it’s simply unfair. He’s perfect and hers and it makes her heart ache in the best possible way.

“You wanna do it?”

Rey glances over at it. “Mm, nah.”

Ben’s face falls like she _slapped_ him or something. 

“I’m kidding, Ben. Of course I wanna do it!” Ferris wheels are their _thing._ Every time they come across one, they have to go on it. “God, you should’ve seen your face just now.”

He forces a laugh and grabs her hand. “Yeah. Good one.” 

“Okay, smile!” Rey encourages.

He manages. Once the flash goes off, he resumes flat-face. “I can get you a real Polaroid, you know. Easy.”

“I know, but your mom gave me this and I actually really like it. It doesn’t need to be authentic, you know. This isn’t art. We’re tourists.”

“Fair point.”

She smiles and takes another photo out the window. It’s raining still and the water looks pretty angry for a bay. It kind of reminds her of the first time she saw the ocean, with him.

“It’s nice and grey outside,” she points out with some teasing sing-song in her voice. He doesn’t respond. She looks— he’s frowning down at his phone as someone is calling it. Shit, she doesn’t want to mess with his work. “Is everything okay? Is it work? We can get off right now, we’re coming up on the station. I’ll yell at the lady— trust me, it’ll work.”

“No! No,” Ben assures her, sending the call to voicemail. “Not work— just my mom.”

“Oh, is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine.”

His phone starts buzzing again. Rey cranes quick to see the caller ID— _Leia Organa._ Again? Then she sees the additional notifications underneath, showing Leia calling eight minutes ago, seven minutes ago, five minutes ago, three minutes ago, two minutes ago…

_“Ben,_ it could be important!” she insists, horrified.

He turns away. “Nope— no. No, it’s not.” 

“How do you know?”

“I know why she’s calling and I can call back later about it, it’s fine. All fine. All good.” He fumbles to power down his phone entirely, then glances out the window behind her. “Was that a whale?”

Instinct makes her look despite logic knowing so much better. She catches herself too late, makes an indignant noise, and punches his shoulder. “Fuck you,” she says, scowling but laughing.

“What, here?” He says like he’s scandalized.“Well I mean, maybe if you asked nicely.”

Yeah— that smart-ass, self-satisfied smirk on his face right now will not do. But she can get rid of it easily. 

Rey stands, goes to his side of the cab, grabs and tilts his face up, and lowers her mouth to his. She kisses him the way he likes, then how he _really_ likes— until, predictably, he grabs her by the waist. Then, less predictably, he uses his grip to pull her down to straddle him with her knees on the hard plastic bench. Once she’s down on his level, he has more leverage and uses it. His hand slides into her hair to keep her close as he takes over. After letting letting him kiss her a few long moments more, Rey pulls away with a tug and stumbles back to her seat across from him. She ignores the heat in her face, hoping he won’t notice. That backfired. 

Ben grins, shaking his head. “Was that a _punishment_ for tricking you?”

Rey shrugs, acting nonplussed.

He leans in a bit, deep brown eyes gleaming. “Actually, maybe it was. Here, try it again.”

She snorts, breaking character. 

“Sure, but not here. Not in our symbol of… of young love and innocence,” she jokes, flourishing her hand for effect.

“What symbol?” he scoffs. “The ferris wheel? What makes you say that?”

“The night we met, duh.”

“Rey, I can promise you my thoughts on that ferris wheel were _not_ innocent.”

_“Bennn,”_ she complains in embarrassment, covering her face and laughing. He’s definitely never mentioned that outright before. Through a crack in her fingers she sees him smile.

“Well, a lot of them were innocent— and important ones. But definitely not all of them,” he admits in amendment. “What do you remember of that night, anyway? Or I guess, how do you remember it?”

Rey tilts her head. He looks like he’s really asking. “For real?”

“Yes.”

Oh— okay. She looks out over the blue-grey water and tries to get in the headspace of where and who she was then, before Ben. “Well… Maz had just adopted me a few months before. Finn and Rose wanted to be alone so I fucked off on my own. I remember I didn’t mind being by myself until your friends started yelling at me. When you came after me, I assumed it was to harass me some more but— but something about you made me go against every instinct I had and follow you under some shady fucking bleachers."

She turns from the window to smile at him. He smiles back, but she notices he’s listening to her way more seriously than she thought he was. She thinks harder. “I remember time went really fast with you. I thought you were hot. And a good kisser.” She shrugs. “And… I felt way more comfortable with you than I probably should’ve felt with any stranger. I don’t know.” She remembers the wording of his question again— _How_ does she remember it? That’s simple. “I just remember it now as what led me to you.”

He smiles, but it’s troubled in a way she can’t read. Again. “Do you ever wish it had gone a different way?”

That makes her feel uneasy, but she laughs. “What, like you as the quarterback and me as the cheer captain?”

He shrugs, tense. “For a while there in the beginning, it sucked. I know I made it suck. There was a lot of pain involved. So I guess I’m just asking if you ever wished we’d just… come about differently.”

“No,” she says. She doesn’t have to think about it. “We’re here because of all of that. It was worth it and I wouldn’t change anything. Would you?”

He gives her a weak smile. “No. No, me neither.”

“Good,” she says. She feels so _nervous_ for some reason. “Why do you ask?”

Ben doesn’t answer. He clasps his hands together tightly and simply watches her as though he didn’t hear her. 

“Ben… are you okay?”

His expression refocuses and softens when he sees he’s distressed her. He pushes some hair from his face and licks his lips. “Rey, if I wanted to tell you something… do you think you could just listen to the end?”

“Yes, of course,” she whispers, immediately shifting gears. “Always.”

He nods his thanks and takes a breath. 

“Okay. I wouldn’t change anything either. I wouldn’t, because like you kind of said, it led me here. Every good and bad thing in my life has in one way or another has led me here— led me to you— and because of that, I wouldn’t wish for anything else. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.

And honestly, I’m so grateful every day that we figured our shit out in high school. I really don’t know where I’d be without you and I don’t even want to imagine it. You changed my whole fucking life. Hell, you resurrected it. You know that.

But that’s not the reason I love you— I want you to know that. I don’t just love you the way I do because you’ve… _helped_ me a lot. There aren’t actually words for it, you have to understand, but I’ve tried to get as close as I can and I hope it’s enough.

You are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. You’re unbelievably tough and impossibly selfless and— and _wicked_ smart. You never judge anyone but always hold them accountable, and you’re open to everything but only ever form your own opinions. You make living in this world more fun and less scary. Being with you just makes everything better and I just— I love you because it feels against my nature not to.

You’ve gotten me through some of the hardest moments of my life— we’ve both done that for each other. And I’m grateful. Before you, I didn’t even _know_ that I didn’t want to be alone. I thought I was fine. You showed me what it was like _not_ to be and now— now I’m the only version of myself that I ever want to be. The version that’s me when I’m with you. Even when I’m literally, physically alone, struggling, in a different state or whatever— I don’t feel it anymore. I never feel alone because I know I’m not. I don’t know how to express how much that means.

I’ve always felt like it was you and me, Rey— and not against the world, but within it. Together. And— and I want it to be.

I want you to know that I would do anything for you. Literally anything. I’ll— I’ll take care of you, I’ll protect you, I’ll always be there when you need me. When your head gets crowded, I’ll sit down and sort through it with you, and for every bad thought you find, I’ll give you five new good ones to replace them. I’ll… fucking deal with the fucking health insurance people for you, I’ll tell people to fuck off when I can tell you want to but can’t, I’ll terrify every single creep at your work to your chosen degree, I’ll take a bullet for you if I have to— I’ll do anything to keep you safe and make you happy. Anything.

You’re the most precious thing in my life and you have been since we were teenagers. Our life is greater than anything I ever had the imagination for, Rey. And I want it forever. I think I already told you once, but I swear— I saw you at that game table and I was done. Even if I didn’t fully realize it at the time, it was over. It was you.

I’ve never in my life wanted anyone else and I never will. I’m tired of calling you my girlfriend— I hate it. It feels hollow every time. It’s not enough. It doesn’t even scratch the surface of what you are to me. So—”

That’s when he goes to reach into his coat pocket and finds nothing there. He’s not wearing his coat. Rey is. He gave it to her when they left the restaurant like he always does whenever he even suspects she’s even a little bit cold.

Rey laughs-sobs. _You chivalrous idiot. You big, tall, gallant fucking moron._

Before he can say anything more, she rustles around in the pockets and finds what he was looking for. She hands it to him wordlessly.

“…Thanks.” He scrunches his eyes closed and sighs, the universal expression of acute embarrassment. She kicks him lightly to encourage him continue. He looks at her and manages a small laugh. She smiles back, not bothering to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks.

Finally he scoots over a couple feet down his bench until he’s directly in front of her, their knees knocking and interlocking to accommodate. There’s no room for him to get down on a knee. He just collects himself for a brief moment while turning the little black box around in his hands.

“I was just going to ask,” he tries again, then opens it towards her. “Will you be my wife instead?”

“Yes.”

“…Yes?”

“Yes, Ben,” she laughs. “What, did you expect me to say no?”

He blinks. “I mean, I don’t know what—”

She throws her arms around him and silences him with a hard kiss— then kisses all around his face. She kisses him again and again until he’s laughing and she pulls back, satisfied.

He’s flushed. She still loves seeing that every time. “Okay, okay— give me your hand.”

She does, and watches him slip the ring on in awe. She doesn’t know anything about rings, but it’s beautiful. Really nice. Classic-looking.

“It was my grandmother’s.”

Rey’s smile falters. “Are you sure—”

“And before you _object,_ I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the wife of her only grandchild and that it’s yours by right. You’re family. It couldn’t belong to anyone else.” 

It feels like she’s glowing inside. Ben watches her absorb it all with those soft brown eyes, kinder and heavier and more honest than any she’s known. _His wife. His family._

Then they’re just watching each other, smiling so uncontrollably that their faces hurt like schoolchildren. Rey feels sixteen again, noticing the tall punk kid with the scary friends and soft brown eyes. She’s marrying that kid— her best friend, her soul mate, the love of her life. Her Ben.

She’s lost for words. What can she say that haven’t they already said to each other over the years? Sometimes it feels like they’re just two pieces of something greater, like they were never really separate to begin with. What part of herself can she express now that he doesn’t already see and understand? 

She used to see the future as something that would always be doomed for someone like her, but she was wrong. She and Ben proved that. What they’ve achieved together has made her realize that she was never the frightened, disposable orphan that she got stuck thinking of herself as. He never let her give up on things when she got overwhelmed or scared under the influence of distorted thinking and old ideas. He was always there, pointing her in the direction of other ways to think and move forward.

He likes to talk about how she ‘changed his life’ like she’s some kind of saint, but the reality is that she owes him just as much or more. Only because of Ben Solo is Rey who she is today— someone who she likes and is proud of and believes in. He gave her that. After a childhood of either being a burden or a prop in a legal battle or nothing at all, Ben helped give Rey her self back. Without judging or pitying, he walked with her through all the confusion and the trauma until, over time, she emerged seeing herself as something more than the sum of her hurts.

How do you even thank someone for that? You can’t. Her voice is tight. “Ben…” Nothing else comes out.

He reaches up and softly wipes a stray tear away, leaving his hand there. “I know.”

Then, thankfully, he leans in and kisses her. It’s soft and its sweet and is made a thousand times better by Rey realizing that she gets this for the rest of her life. Officially. In ink. Forever. He seems to read her mind, because he smiles at the same time she does.

But then he pulls away, his face falling suddenly. He scrambles for his phone. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” she demands, startled.

“My mom. She’s going to be so pissed.”

“Leia? What, why?”

“I fucked up the time zones,” he groans. “She was calling earlier me to ask about this, to see how it went.”

Rey throws her head back and laughs loudly. That’s what was happening? He smiles in that private way he does when he’s pleased with her reaction. It’s adorable— it always has been.

“Welcome to a lifetime of this,” he sighs, kissing her once on the forehead before dialing.

She’s ready. She’s not sure a lifetime will be enough.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vibes: "Recovery" by Broods [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTYjnX9p8IM), "Stars Beyond" by Rooms [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_J6ldJQhyJo) [[full playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Z31dZhX8vgRH8JcCe6hzC?si=Z9YYFWZHSHSrLoYyar9CFQ)
> 
> So I kinda just frickin blindly went for it here tbh, I hope I didn't land too far off the map of wherever you were hoping it would go!
> 
> I say this every time and I mean it every time— thank you for reading. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr @steeltemper xx  
> and now twitter! @wickedtempered

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Daisies in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833342) by [themidnightartemis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidnightartemis/pseuds/themidnightartemis)




End file.
